Unravelling Threads of Fate
by Myuki-chan
Summary: [Complete] AU. When Ishida meets a bizarre and cheerful man named Urahara Kisuke, the two are inexplicably drawn to each other. But when he discovers the truth about Urahara's past and its ties to his own, difficulties arise. UraharaxUryuu, some IchiRuki
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ishida Uryuu had always liked making clothes. Being a famous fashion designer maybe wasn't his absolute goal and dream in life, but if he ever made it to that point, he would be happy. So when he was hired a year ago to work under the Hell Moth label, it was more than he could ask for. Besides, anything was better than the situation he had been in before.

Loud voices could be heard drifting up the staircase into the studio and Ishida twisted around in his chair to watch their arrival. Spiky orange hair was seen first, followed by a scowling face avidly yelling at someone who became visible only after a few more steps, said person arguing just as loudly back at the taller boy.

Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia.

Ichigo had an average family life. His father was a doctor and earned enough to support the family of three children with a decent lifestyle. His mother had died when he was young, leaving him and his two younger sisters to the care of their father (which at times was hazardous). Ichigo had met Rukia in senior year and they bonded, perhaps from the common loss of a mother, and despite almost constant bickering, they were inseparable. So much that when Rukia's remaining family had ordered her to stop seeing him, she ignored them.

Rukia was from a fairly wealthy family but she had relinquished most of her pampered life to stay with Ichigo and follow her dream of becoming a renowned fashion designer. She had been talented enough to have been accepted into a design college with a scholarship straight out of high school and established her own label only a year later. Fortunately for her, her brother had been kind enough to lend her some funds in the beginning stages, finally accepting that she wasn't going to change her mind, and she now had her dream. An upcoming show for Hell Moth was only weeks away.

An orange-haired girl bounced up the steps after the other two had moved aside from the stairway and gave Ishida a little wave.

Inoue Orihime.

She had lost most of her family early in life, left only with a brother who also passed away in the early years of high school. Orihime had supported herself through school and with a knack for sewing, managed to get a scholarship to the same design college Rukia had gone to. When Rukia had broken off into her own company, she offered her a job which had been happily accepted.

Rukia was also, in fact, Ishida's employer.

Ishida's life had been rough. The basic story was that after graduating high school, his father had left him and moved to another city for his own purpose. With no home or funding for college, he was left at a loss. Luckily, he had something akin to friendship with Ichigo and was able to live in the Kurosaki household on minimum rent. For two years after high school, Ishida picked up various jobs to pay the rent, none of them particularly career-advancing. The day that had all changed was when Rukia's latest assistant had quit and Orihime had recommended him. She had remembered how he had kept a sketchbook full of designs just for fun, as well as how adept he was at sewing.

The thing was, despite Rukia's talent… she just could not draw. Everyone had wondered at least once how she had managed to do so well in the college or even get a scholarship in the first place. Before Ishida, there had already been three previous assistants that had all eventually quit. He could understand why, but was getting used to deciphering the odd little doodles into something everyone could work with. He would sketch out his own version and consult back to Rukia on anything she might want to change, the process continuing until they had an image she was happy with. The design would then go to Orihime and other workers who would make the outfit a reality. Both Rukia and Ishida often helped out on the sewing, a sort of break from everything else. Ichigo was still in college and usually hung around the studio with his textbooks, settling down by the large window while everyone else worked.

If anything, Ishida felt content. He had a steady employment that paid well and the job was something he enjoyed. He would have never expected the offer he would receive that day.

"Hello, Ishida-kun!" Orihime said brightly, wandering over to his work table and examining the new designs.

Ishida nodded at her slightly. "Inoue-san."

"You're always so polite. You need to loosen up! We've all been working together for a year already!" She smiled, flinging her arms wide open in enthusiasm, then frowned down at the drawings piled on the table that looked like… well, something. "I don't understand how you know what Kuchiki-san means by all these strange little figures."

"It's really not that hard."

"Well," the girl beamed, "then that means I made the right decision by telling Kuchiki-san about you!"

Ishida couldn't help but smile a little at that. "You did. I can never thank you enough, Inoue-san."

"Well, you should give some credit to Kurosaki-kun. He said some nice things back then to help you get the job too."

_Kurosaki did what?_ Ishida blinked over at the couple still quarrelling in the corner. _I guess it's not that big of a surprise. I'm not sure I appreciate the pity, but it did get me the job._

"… they've been arguing ever since we left the store," Orihime noted a little helplessly.

He hadn't been paying attention to what they were fighting about but once he stopped filtering out their voices, it was easy to hear. It sounded serious too.

"Will you just listen?"

"I'm not changing my mind, Ichigo."

"Freakin' hell, Rukia. You won't even _consider_ my opinion?"

"No."

"You're so damn stubborn!"

"I don't see why I should care what you think." Rukia settled two fists against her hips and glared up at him. "Besides, you don't know the first thing about picking out fabrics!"

"But it was _ugly_!"

_Wait, what? They're arguing about fabric?_ Ishida inwardly sighed, a little in exasperation and a little in relief. He didn't like to admit it, but he would have been disappointed if the two ever broke up. It was reassuring that they were the same as ever.

"It wasn't ugly! It's perfect for my latest design."

Ichigo just rolled his eyes and pat her on the head, causing her face to shift into a scowl. "Whatever, Rukia. I'll be back later, I have to go pick up some printer ink."

As he turned around to go back to the stairs, a little foot lifted and planted itself forcefully against his rear, sending the spiky-haired boy sprawling to the ground. Scrambling back to his feet, Ichigo spun around with a glare to see Rukia smiling innocently up at him. Shaking his head, he smirked and kissed her lightly on top of her head before heading down the stairs.

"I don't know why I put up with you!" his voice called up to them.

The small, raven-haired girl stuck her head into the stairwell and shouted back in amusement, "Because I'm the only one who'll put up with _you_!"

Turning back around, it seemed as if Rukia had only just noticed that Ishida was in the room. It was possible.

"Ah, Ishida-san! How are the drawings coming along?" she asked, walking over to stand beside Orihime. "You've gotten so good at this that sooner or later, I won't need to correct you on anything anymore!"

"I don't know about _that_, Kuchiki-san, as there's always something that can be fixed. I don't think I'm ready to be left on my own yet..." Ishida replied, adjusting his glasses with a hand.

"Oh… are you sure about that?"

Something about the tone of her voice made his head snap up to look at her, blinking in confusion. "Eh?"

As Rukia waved her hand in a motion for privacy, Orihime grinned and scurried off to work on something in the other room. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the tabletop and smiled, hoop earrings swaying at the movement. She was wearing one of the Hell Moth dresses: a simple, black knee-length dress of flowing fabric with the bottom edge made to look tattered, a red ribbon tied around the waist for contrast.

"Don't play dumb, Ishida-san. When I first hired you, it was only as an assistant. But after seeing the kind of work you can do, I started shifting your role into more of an apprentice. You are fully capable of running your own label – you just need a little push. So, I'm going to offer you a chance to start your career… the show coming up in three weeks. If you wish to do so, you're welcome to add in a few of your own designs. Feel free to make use of the staff here."

He could only stare at her. What Rukia was offering him was… just unbelievable.

"B-but, you still need an assistant…"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I can always find another one. Besides, don't you think I'm getting better at drawing?" Rukia lifted a hand and waved it impatiently in the air. "So, what do you say?"

Ishida opted not to answer the first question. Start his own label? Was it possible? To have his own designs become a reality…

"I gladly accept."

The girl straightened triumphantly with a bright grin. "I knew you would."

He smiled slightly in return. It was the start of something new in his life.

* * *

The moon had already begun to set when two figures let themselves into the penthouse of the hotel. The taller one made its way over to the windows and flung the curtains open to stare down at the flashing street lights. He hadn't been back in this city for a long time. Fifteen years to be exact.

"It's good to be back."

"Well, you didn't have to leave in the first place, Kisuke," the other, slender figure noted, remaining by the door. "If there's nothing else you need, I'm going home."

Urahara Kisuke grinned over at her. "Aww, you're going to leave just like that, Yoruichi-san? I thought you would have missed me."

"You wake me up at one in the morning, telling me to find you a hotel, and expect me to stick around and chat? Like hell, I have work tomorrow." Shihouin Yoruichi crossed her arms, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Ah, yes, yes. Sorry, I forgot. Go on home."

Opening the door, Yoruichi paused as she began to step back out. "It's good that you're back but things have really changed with the company, Kisuke."

There was only silence for a few moments before a quiet voice replied, "I know… but it doesn't concern me anymore. I have no reason to get involved, do I?"

"It all depends on how you look at it. Good night, Kisuke."

Once the door locked behind her, Urahara looked down at the city once more. Shaking his head a little to clear his mind, a grin crept back onto his face. He would have to find out if there were any upcoming events that he could attend. Perhaps he'd find something interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was late in the evening when Ishida let himself into the Kurosaki household. After having lived there for three years, he supposed he could call it "home", but for some reason, it just didn't feel right. The house was dark so he quietly made his way up the stairs to the room he occupied, assuming everyone was already asleep. He was just about to step through the doorway when a spiky head poked out from a door down the hall.

"Oi, Ishida."

"Kurosaki."

Ichigo still lived at home but not for much longer. He and Rukia had decided to move in together once they found a suitable apartment, which was proving to be difficult. They hoped to find something by the end of the year.

"Just ah… good luck tomorrow, ya know?" A hand reached out to scratch his dismembered-looking head.

Ishida adjusted his glasses in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. He still wasn't used to getting well-wishes like that. "Oh… thank you. Shouldn't you be saying that kind of thing to Kuchiki-san instead?"

"Rukia? Nah, she's too full of herself to need anyone to reassure her," the boy snorted, his expression softening slightly afterwards. "She knows she's good."

Nodding his head a little, Ishida turned back to step into his room. "She does have talent. Good night, Kurosaki."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't be nervous either. 'Night."

Closing the door behind him, Ishida flicked on the light and set his bag down carefully by the door. He moved unconsciously – taking a shower, changing his clothes, brushing his teeth – until finally settling down on the bed after turning off the light. Moonlight streamed through the window to silhouette his rigid posture, hands clasped tightly together on his lap.

Tomorrow was the day of the fashion show.

It felt as if the three weeks to prepare had gone by in a blur, leaving Ishida faintly wondering if the two outfits he had completed were real or just something in his imagination. But he could remember sketching the designs, seeing the image flow out of the pencils, watching the fabric being measured and cut, feeling the needle move smoothly through the cloth as he helped adjust the clothing. They were real and they were going to be worn tomorrow.

Ichigo said he shouldn't be nervous. How could he _not_ be? His possible future career depended on that evening and what people thought of his designs. Sure, if no one liked them, he could always keep his job with Rukia. It would still be a failure though and Ishida didn't think he would be able to be happy after failing something so significant.

_There's no reason for me to be thinking so negatively,_ Ishida berated himself, shifting to put his glasses down on the night table and himself under the blankets. _I just have to accept whatever happens. Hopefully something good…_

The dark-haired boy stared at the glowing red numbers on the digital clock, watching them flick by until he eventually fell asleep. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

* * *

By the time Urahara arrived at the building, he was an hour and a half late and the show had already started. He had no idea that so much could change in fifteen years. Buildings were gone or replaced by newer ones and there were even a few new roads. Luckily, Yoruichi agreed to be his guide for the evening (she had stated "chaperone" but why would he need her to be that?). It was fine with him though; all he really wanted to see was the after-party.

After having their names checked at the door, the two were let inside. Urahara grinned at the flashing lights and blaring music amongst a massive crowd of people. At the far end of the room, a model was currently strutting down the runway, wearing one of the newest designs from Hell Moth.

He had seen flyers and read articles about the upcoming show by a talented young designer named Kuchiki Rukia. At first glance, one wouldn't think he would care much about fashion. He didn't really but it was a form of creation and that was something that did interest him. The models were also pretty to look at.

Yoruichi nudged him in the side and he blinked at her, reluctantly turning away from the figures on the runway.

"Kisuke, did you know MOD is one of the hosts for the show?" she hissed loudly. He could barely hear her over all the noise.

"Hm? Of course."

Oh, he knew. He had done his research. In fact, it was one of his many reasons for attending.

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Why should it? Really, Yoruichi-san, sometimes I don't understand you." With that, Urahara drifted off to get a better view… and to be closer to the refreshment table when the wine was brought out.

The dark-haired woman sighed as she watched him go. Sometimes she didn't understand him either. It was damn frustrating.

Watching the models walk down the runway, seemingly oblivious to the cameras flashing around them, Urahara let himself drift into thought. Since MOD was one of the main hosts, the chances of them sending a representative was very likely. He doubted the president himself would attend. Urahara frowned a little as he rubbed his chin. He really ought to follow through on the statements he made. It _was_ bothering him a little despite what he told Yoruichi. Well, hopefully he wouldn't care anymore once he had some alcohol.

Glancing up at the stage, he noticed that the style of the outfits on display now were different from the earlier ones. If anything, they were the complete opposite. Rather than dark colours that were typically black and red, these two were mostly white, with bright designs decorating the edges. It was intriguing; bright lights among a world of shadow. Urahara stepped closer as a final figure walked down the stage towards a microphone that had been set up at the end. He recognized her as Kuchiki Rukia from the articles.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I won't say much as I'm sure you're all impatient for the refreshments and want to mingle with others. I just wanted to note that tonight you may have noticed something different in our show. The last two designs were by a very talented colleague of mine by the name of Ishida Uryuu." Rukia glanced behind her as if expecting something, then turned back to the crowd. "Unfortunately, he's a tad shy, so if you are interested and wish to speak with him, I'll gladly point him out to you this evening. Once again, thank you for all your support. I am always very grateful. Enjoy your evening. Thank you."

As the applause faded, the crowd began to drift into groups.

_Ishida Uryuu…?_ Urahara mused quietly to himself. _I wonder why—Ah!_

A grin spread across his face as he spotted a server carrying a tray of wine glasses. Out of the corner of his eye he could also see Yoruichi obviously looking for him. Hurrying over to the wine, he grabbed a glass and weaved his way out of sight. If she caught him, there would be no more wine for Urahara.

Slowing down as he judged that he was probably on the opposite side of the room now, Urahara stopped to see if there was anyone he recognized. After a moment of searching, he shrugged in acceptance that there was no one familiar. A small crowd had gathered around something and Urahara tilted his head to peer in between two heads to see what it was.

_It_ turned out to be a _he_ who was currently looking very uncomfortable. The boy was wearing a casual yet dressy white shirt and navy blue slacks. He stuttered out a few responses and statements of thanks, obviously unused to so much attention. Catching a few drifting words coming from the others, Urahara discovered that this was the talented little designer by the name of Ishida Uryuu.

_Poor thing. Let's see what I can do…_

Sauntering over, Urahara pushed his way through into the center.

* * *

Ishida was nervous. Beyond nervous. Orihime had brought him a cup of tea to try to calm him down but it hadn't helped much. All morning he had checked then rechecked the two outfits that were on hangers behind the stage. It got to the point where Rukia shoved him away and threatened to fire him if he looked at them one more time before the show actually started. He did stay away after that but his nerves were still on edge.

He didn't remember much of what was going on around him, not even when the show had started and models were hastily changing backstage. What Ishida could remember was the moment he saw his first design take a step onto the walkway. He watched breathlessly, feeling awe and the solid confirmation that yes, his creation was _real_. Rukia had come up behind him, congratulating him with a grin. She had told him that he should come out with her, introduce himself. He had babbled incoherently, saying he was too nervous to go out in front of so many people and that please no, he wasn't ready. Finally giving up, Rukia had pat him on the back and gone out to make her speech. Ishida had sighed in relief, slouching back against a wall.

After hearing what she said though, the dark-haired boy was desperately searching for somewhere to hide. Unfortunately, Rukia was very adept at the game of hide-and-seek (Ichigo had sent him a look of sympathy). Shoving him into a crowd of interested people, she left him to answer questions with a grin.

Now, not to be mistaken, Ishida appreciated their admiration and compliments. Very much so. But growing up in a rather sheltered life with few real friends made him very uncomfortable when a large number of people focused their undivided attention on him. He knew he would have to get over his nervousness eventually but… not in one night.

Trying to keep up with the questions and answering politely, he wanted _something_ to save him, if only for a few moments. He didn't expect it to really happen. But suddenly, someone pushed their way into the group and took a hold of his shoulders.

"Ishida-san! I haven't seen you in _years_! Come, let's go talk outside!" Still spouting nonsense statements, the man steered Ishida out of the crowd and out an exit into the parking lot, ignoring the multitude of protests behind him.

Closing his eyes in relief as cold air washed over him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, Ishida-san. Not used to that kind of thing, are you?"

Ishida turned to look at his rescuer. A man with a bright grin watched him with eyes shaded by a dark hat, pale blond hair poking out from underneath it. He was wearing a medium-length black coat on top of a dark-green suit. In one hand he held a wine glass that was half-empty.

_Or half full._ Ishida idly noted to himself before remembering that the man had asked him a question.

"O-oh… no, I'm not. Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"Urahara Kisuke, at your service." He gave a bow before straightening to lean back against the door. "As for your name, it wasn't very hard to overhear it. Especially after Kuchiki-san's little speech."

_Oh, right._ Ishida almost blushed in embarrassment.

"Thank you for getting me out. I needed a break for a moment."

"Not a problem, not a problem. Perfectly understandable. I have to say, I did like your designs. If your work will be showing up in more shows, I'll be sure to attend."

"Thank you… Urahara-san."

All of a sudden, the door was kicked open, sending Urahara stumbling forward. Miraculously, he managed not to spill any of his wine.

"Kisuke! Where the hell have you been? And – is that wine?!" Yoruichi glared at him fiercely, tapping a foot.

"Oh dear. My apologies, Ishida-san, it seems I must get going now. We'll talk again next time!" Urahara said cheerfully as he was unceremoniously dragged back into the building by the collar.

Ishida stared after them blankly but couldn't help a small smile from creeping onto his face. _Urahara Kisuke. Will there be a next time?_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When Ishida had stepped back inside the building after a few moments of peace, Rukia had pounced on him, asking why he had disappeared like that when there were so many people wanting to speak with him. He had apologized and explained how he was feeling overwhelmed. Softening, she had promised to stick with him and help answer some questions. The rest of the night went smoothly and eventually the crowd thinned until the last few groups were walking out the doors. Ishida found himself scanning them, searching for another glimpse of a grinning face if possible. He doubted Urahara had stayed much longer after getting hauled off by such a furious looking person, but just maybe…

"Oh, is Ishida-kun looking for someone?"

He started and blinked wide-eyed in slight embarrassment. _What's wrong with me? I barely spoke to the man…  
_  
"A-ah! No, no, Inoue-san. I'm just gathering my thoughts."

Blinking curiously, Orihime just shrugged a little before smiling brightly and throwing a handful of confetti over him. Ishida watched the little coloured pieces of paper flutter down to the ground as Rukia and Ichigo walked up to stand beside her.

"Congratulations, Ishida-kun!"

"Con… what for?" His eyebrows drew together into a confused frown as he stared at the three standing before him.

"Don't be an idiot, Ishid—Ow!"

"I think what Ichigo means is that tonight was such a success for you! Don't pretend like you didn't notice."

"Yeah, sure, that's what I meant." Ichigo rubbed his arm, scowling down at the little black-haired girl.

"We're proud of you, Ishida-san."

"T-thank you..." A faint smile touched his lips as he looked at them. He had his first step into a new life.

* * *

"Kisuke."

Urahara leaned back in his seat and smiled lazily at the buildings racing by outside. After being dragged away from the party, a cab had been called to get them back to the hotel. He thought it was unfortunate that he had been forced to leave the earlier conversation. Especially when the other participant was a rather pretty person.

"_Kisuke_."

He'd have to find out if there was some way for him to meet Ishida again. Urahara couldn't understand it but he wanted to talk to the boy some more. Partially because Ishida reminded him of something and he wanted to find out what.

"Kisuke!"

"Yes, Yoruichi-san?"

"What were you doing when I found you earlier?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "You weren't molesting the poor kid, were you? I know that when you have too much alcohol you—"

"I assure you, I did no such thing. And I only had half a glass!" Urahara added in a mock-offended tone.

Shaking a hand impatiently in his direction, Yoruichi propped up one arm on the headrest. "Yes, yes, whatever you say. What I wanted to tell you is that we need to discuss your finances."

"What for? Ever since I hired you, you've been doing what I asked, correct?"

"Yes, but…"

"It shouldn't be a problem then. Especially with the interest over the time I was gone, there should be more than an adequate amount of funds available to me. I could probably live my life five times over in absolute luxury with the amount that's there." Turning his head away from the window to look at her, Urahara quirked an eyebrow from underneath his hat. "So what is your concern? The savings account hasn't vanished due to some unforeseen circumstance, has it?"

"Of course not!" The dark-haired woman glared at him. He was practically asking her if she had screwed up with her job! "I just needed to know if you wanted to get your fair share of the company's profits since you left."

Urahara fell silent to glance out the window again. The hotel was a block away.

"Short answer: no. Now I know you want to argue with me, but it's rather late for this kind of talk, don't you agree, Yoruichi-san? How about a dinner meeting next week?"

Taking a deep breath to stop herself from screaming at him, Yoruichi nodded. "I'll let you know when I'm free."

"Sounds lovely."

Urahara waved at her from the curb as the cab moved back into traffic. Shifting in her seat to look forward again, she let out a frustrated sigh. He never answered questions directly. The woman's eyes drifted to the digital meter at the front of the cab, causing her to curse under her breath. She was going to have to pay the whole fare. Bastard.

* * *

"Ishida-san!"

Ishida looked up from his sketches to watch Rukia racing up the studio stairs towards him. A week had passed since the fashion show and things were mostly back to normal. Other than a few hours of freedom assigned to him every day so that he could work on his own designs, Ishida was back to deciphering the small designer's doodles. To be honest, he felt relieved. He needed this simplicity, this comfort zone, until he felt ready to go off on his own.

"You're coming to dinner with me tonight."

"D-dinner? …_tonight_?"

"Yes!" Planting her hands onto her hips, Rukia grinned at him. "I just realized that this would be another perfect opportunity for you. I've been invited out to dinner by some fellow designers. Normally, I would take Ichigo but this is a great way for you to make connections! Besides, he always gets bored. So how about it? You don't have anything planned, right?"

Ishida mutely shook his head.

"Great! Dinner's at 6:30. It's a rather fancy restaurant, so you'll need to dress up. Go ahead and leave the studio early if you need the extra time to get ready. I'll come by with a cab."

"Kuchiki-san, why—?"

"Why am I helping you so much?" Dragging a chair over to Ishida, Rukia sat down, propping her elbow up on his desk. "Listen, Ishida-san, we all know you've had it rough. You deserve to have a happy life and I don't think staying here is going to do it. It would be a pity to waste a talent like yours and since I have the means to help you, I will. I _know_ you hate pity but this isn't that at all – it's recognition of an ability."

What could Ishida say? He _had_ thought it was pity and even if it still was, the fact that Rukia addressed the matter made him feel that he could accept all the support despite it. She was only trying to help. It meant a lot to Ishida when people tried to help him since his childhood had a significant lack of affection.

"If that's the case, I can only thank you for such generosity, Kuchiki-san."

Smiling, she pat him on the arm and stood up. "I'll come get you with the cab at around 6 PM then."

With that, Rukia went off to check on the progress of the prototypes for her new designs, leaving Ishida to continue working while there was time. He left the studio an hour before Rukia was supposed to arrive, giving himself plenty of time to get back to the house and get ready. After showering, he changed into one of his few formal outfits: a black suit on top of a pale-blue shirt and navy-blue tie. Ishida started to grow nervous as he waited for her but firmly pushed the feeling away. If he was going to be successful, he needed to gain some confidence.

When he saw the cab stop outside the house, Ishida raced downstairs to climb into the car. He barely heard Rukia's compliment on his outfit and she pat him reassuringly on the shoulder as they pulled to a stop beside the restaurant entrance. He noticed she was wearing another Hell Moth dress as she stepped out of the taxi, this one a longer design with the trademark red ribbon curling patterns over the fabric. Ushering him inside, they were directed to their reserved table and settled down to wait for the other designers. When they arrived, they introduced themselves eagerly to him, having heard many things from Rukia, but Ishida couldn't remember a single name. All because what happened later in the evening made him forget completely.

As they spoke amongst themselves, Ishida found his gaze drifting idly about the restaurant. As his eyes passed over the front entrance, they widened at the figure that stood there, accompanied once again by the one who had dragged him off a week ago.

Urahara Kisuke.

The two were led to a table and he watched them as they spoke to each other. Urahara was facing his way so he could see every grin and frown, eyes shadowed by that odd hat again. When Urahara stood up and went in the direction of the men's restroom, without thinking, Ishida excused himself politely from the table and headed the same way. Only when he finally stood in front of the restroom door did he stop to think.

_What in the world am I doing? Following him to the bathroom? I've become a stalker for a reason I don't even know._ Frowning at himself, Ishida ran his fingers through his bangs. _Why do I want to talk to him so badly? The only thing he's done is…_

That was it. Or at least part of the reason.

…_the only thing he's done is save me. Without even knowing who I am, just for the sake of doing something nice because he recognized that I needed help._

Ishida couldn't remember ever meeting a perfect stranger who would so freely help him out. His friends, if he could call them that, had know him for at least a few years beforehand. His one model in life, his father, had gone through life solely for his own purpose. He had never helped anyone without gaining something first or expecting something in return. To meet someone like Urahara, Ishida considered it remarkable. And it touched him.

_I want to talk with him because I want to know more about him. _

So caught up in his realization, Ishida didn't notice when the bathroom door opened again.

"Oh! If it isn't Ishida-san!"

He stared up in horror at the face currently looking amused and slightly curious back at him. Ishida decided that he should have gone somewhere else to have his epiphany, rather than standing outside the men's washroom staring into space.

* * *

Urahara had scheduled a dinner meeting at one of his favourite restaurants. When the two were seated, Yoruichi wasted no time in getting down to business.

"Okay, Kisuke. You told me to wait, so I waited. Now tell me why you don't want your share of the profits."

"What do I need it for? Like I said last week, there's enough money in the savings account for me to live several times over."

"And yet you still wear that ugly hat," she noted flatly, taking a sip of her water.

"I resent that!"

"Fine, your hat isn't ugly. But what do you mean, "what for"? It's your entitled share!"

"I don't need it and honestly, I don't want it. Especially when I know where that money came from."

"Kisuke…"

Urahara shook his head, idly tracing the seam of the napkin with a finger. "I'm perfectly happy with the funds I attained during my work. If you can't understand that Yoruichi-san, I think you've spent too much time around the "new" company. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the restroom."

He stepped into the bathroom, merely to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts alone. Things had changed too much in the time he was gone; people were changing too. When Urahara stepped out of the washroom, the last thing he expected to see was the young designer from the party appearing absolutely enthralled at some thought… or the wall. He had to admit it was a nice surprise though. He was starting to wonder how he would ever track the boy down again.

"Oh! If it isn't Ishida-san!"

Urahara smiled at the look on Ishida's face as the younger man coloured slightly. He really could be quite adorable. Urahara vaguely wondered if he should really be thinking something like that.

"A-ah! H-hello, Urahara-san. Er… how are you?"

"I'm doing quite well! I hope things are going well for you?"

Ishida nodded, trying to force the embarrassment off his face.

"That's good! You know, it's funny to meet you here. I was trying to find a way to contact you after the fashion show."

"What? I-I mean, you were? That is odd… I was hoping to meet with you again too."

Urahara blinked and observed him quietly. He had a feeling that his life would become very complicated if he spent any more time around this Ishida Uryuu. But he was never one to back away from trouble.

"How about lunch?"

"Eh?" Ishida stared at him blankly.

"Tomorrow. It's a Saturday so you don't have work, am I right?"

"Well, I tend to work on my designs a few hours in the morning that day…"

Urahara waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about that. I can pick you up at the studio then. I'm quite sure I know where it is."

"Oh, well… okay." The dark-haired boy found himself smiling a little at the thought of lunch. Grinning, Urahara touched him lightly on the shoulder in passing.

"I'll drop by around noon. See you then, Ishida-san!"

Urahara was certain he was getting into trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Urahara made his way back to the dinner table and noticed that Yoruichi had taken the liberty of ordering wine. He raised an eyebrow at her as he sat down, her response only to sullenly slide over a filled glass.

"Maybe you're right."

"Right about what?" he asked airily, lifting the glass to swirl the red liquid around. Taking a sip, Urahara smiled at the flavour; he liked his wines fruity.

"Do you always have to pretend like you don't remember the conversation?"

"No, but it's more entertaining for me that way."

"Kisuke, be serious for once. I'm letting you have wine, so you can at least do that for me," Yoruichi requested, tapping a finger impatiently against the stem of the wine glass.

"Fine, fine." He set the wine down carefully and looked up to meet her gaze. "So you admit that I'm not being unreasonable?"

"I suppose not. It is hard to keep my morals straight while working nowadays. I have to say, Kisuke, I still want you to take the money. I'd be happy if it just wasn't with the company."

Urahara chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, I gave up having anything to do with it when I left. It's a closed chapter in my life."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a slender figure making his way back to his dinner companions. Catching the eyes that kept darting over to him as Ishida weaved around the tables, Urahara gave him a grin, amused at the shy smile sent back in return. Yoruichi arched a slender eyebrow and turned around to follow his gaze.

"What are you—? Isn't that the boy from the designer party?"

"If he was?"

She looked at him pensively for a moment. "Kisuke, do you even know if he likes you that way? Not all people are as accepting as you when it comes to genders in a relationship. In fact, do _you _even like him that way or are you just toying with him?"

"To be completely serious, as you requested, I don't know. The most I can tell you is that I'm not 'toying with him'. I'm curious about the boy."

"Well, I have to say he seems fragile from what little I've seen of him. Even at face value, I can guess that he's probably very sweet. Don't get too involved if you're still unsure; I guarantee it won't have a pretty result." She paused for a moment, frowning as she realized something. "Aren't you around twenty years older than him?"

Urahara blinked at that, a thoughtful expression on his face. She was right, he was. He hadn't really considered that and from what he could tell, neither had Ishida.

"He didn't seem to have a problem with the age difference when I suggested lunch," he noted cheerfully.

"…lunch?"

"Yes, tomorrow!"

"I shouldn't be, but I am always amazed at how easily you do these things."

"I'll take that as a compliment. On a related topic, Benihime's still in the storage room, is she not?"

"Yes… and getting her regular maintenance, like you asked." Yoruichi found it rather sad that she referred to it in the feminine context so easily. Then again, she had spent more than enough time around Urahara.

"Wonderful. It's about time I take her out again."

* * *

Ishida settled back down in his chair, taking a sip of ice water. When he had crossed the room, seeing Urahara grin brightly at him had caused a blush to rise uncontrollably to his cheeks. He was having a hard time getting rid of it.

"Ishida-san, are you okay? You're a little red." Rukia leaned over to blink at him. Their dinner companions were currently involved in some heated discussion about the use of ruffles on clothing.

"Yes, I'm fine! It's just… a little warm in here."

"Oh, is it? I haven't noticed. We can ask for more water if you want."

"It's fine, Kuchiki-san." Ishida sipped his water again to demonstrate. "I'm feeling cooler already."

"Well, if you're sure." She gestured her head in the direction of the others. "I should apologize for them. I forgot how they tend to get into arguments and stop acknowledging anyone else at the table. If it's any consolation, they like you so far."

"Don't apologize. It's good to know they like me."

"I'll make it up to you somehow." Rukia smiled at him before turning her attention back to the other designers at a nudge to her shoulder.

Ishida really couldn't care less about the dinner discussion at that moment. The only thing he could think about was the lunch scheduled for tomorrow. The conversation at the table faded away from his mind as he found himself repeatedly glancing across the room.

_What is it with me? I want to know more about him, yes, I figured that out. But it's only lunch. It's not like it's a da—_

The dark-haired boy froze and the blush he had managed to force away flared up again.

_A date. Is it a date?! Wait, if it's a date, that means Urahara-san… likes me? But we're both male. Not that I ever cared about that but this means he doesn't either. I don't think about him that way, do I? Er._

Ishida reached up a hand to adjust his glasses, hoping no one noticed how red he was at the moment.

_He couldn't possibly like me. We just met. Right?_

Thinking was not solving anything, it was only making him more confused. Maybe it would be easier to just see what happened at the lunch rather than trying to solve all the questions he had. With that in mind, Ishida ventured into the conversation at the table, answering politely when addressed. He let himself be occupied by mindless chatter, by poking at his food, anything to keep his thoughts from racing off into territory that would probably only leave him disappointed in reality. His attention was caught by one piece of discussion though.

"…know MOD is hosting again?"

"MOD…?"

Rukia glanced over at him and nodded. "They're sponsoring the design convention next month. They co-sponsored our show, didn't you know?"

Ishida tensed with a small shake of his head. He hadn't known and almost wished he had kept it that way. To put it simply, the company MOD was what ruined his family and as a result, made his life difficult all these years. Rather than making him feel like this was a form of repayment for their wrongdoing, he felt sickened.

"Ishida-san?"

"O-oh, it's nothing, Kuchiki-san. I was just thinking about something."

He had never told anyone exactly what had happened in his childhood and he didn't plan to. They didn't need to know.

A movement across the restaurant caught his eye (which was ridiculous because there were a lot of things moving about – why should that particular one be any different?), causing Ishida to look over. Urahara had stood up and was waiting for his dinner companion to gather her things. He lifted his head, shadowed eyes drifting over to where Ishida sat, and grinned with a little wave.

Ishida had to admit that he felt better after that.

* * *

A pencil tapped nervously against the thick sheet of paper that lay blank atop the desk. A few rough sketches lay on the side but nothing particularly productive had been accomplished that morning. Ishida found himself staring at the clock on the wall instead, watching the minutes tick by as they slowly brought noon closer. The dinner had continued on smoothly after he had cheered up at Urahara's departing gesture and the other designers had insisted he join them again some other day. Parting ways, he had taken a cab with Rukia and was dropped off at the Kurosaki residence.

It had taken him half an hour to finally decide what to wear that morning – he had settled on something simple and casual.

A knock on the glass downstairs caused Ishida to jolt out of his musings and drop his pencil. Eyes darting to the clock, he was amused that it read exactly noon. Taking a deep breath, he slid out of his chair and gathered up his things. Venturing down the stairs, he blinked curiously at the glass door, seeing no one outside. Pushing it open, Ishida glanced around outside before finally spotting a figure that was growing very familiar.

Urahara grinned over at him, hands stuffed casually into his pockets. He was leaning delicately against a blood-red convertible. Wearing a casual grey suit with the jacket unbuttoned, the white shirt underneath was worn with the top button open. He still wore the dark hat seen on both previous occasions, causing Ishida to wonder what he would look like without it.

"Hello, Ishida-san! Ready for lunch?"

"A-ah, yes." Slinging his shoulder bag out of the way, Ishida fumbled with the keys to the studio. Ever since he had started coming on Saturdays, Rukia had supplied him with his own set of keys. He suddenly felt the bag being lifted off his shoulder and turned to look up at Urahara's wide grin.

"Need a little help?" he asked with an amused tone, gently extracting the strap from around the younger boy's arm.

"Thank you… Urahara-san." Hastily turning back around to lock the door, Ishida fought down a blush successfully. "Er, shall we go?"

"Certainly! Let me introduce you to Benihime first."

The dark-haired boy stared blankly at that and watched as Urahara strolled back over to the convertible, patting the hood lovingly.

"This is Benihime, Ishida-san. I've missed my pretty little car," he cooed softly, stroking a hand over the red paint. "I think she's one of the things I regretted having to leave the most when I… hm. We'll talk more about that later. For now, climb on in and we'll head off to the café."

Slightly confused but amused at the same time by Urahara's behaviour, Ishida obediently got into the car as the door was held open for him. He peered around the interior curiously, noting leather upholstery and a rather complicated looking dashboard. Urahara climbed into the driver's seat and handed the aspiring designer his bag before twisting around to put on his seatbelt. Ishida quickly followed suit, suddenly feeling a bit apprehensive at the grin that spread onto the older man's face when he turned the ignition.

He was very glad he did when they darted into traffic and started travelling at speeds that caused Ishida to clutch at the strap of his bag.

_I'm going to die._

Leaning back in his seat, Ishida braced himself against being pressed into the door again as they streaked around another corner. Benihime weaved through the lanes, moving through spaces that just barely fit, and raced through the intersections. Faintly wondering if they would get pulled over by a police car, Ishida turned his head to glance at Urahara. He found himself staring, marvelling at how _calm_ he looked despite the wild driving. He looked relaxed with a small, purely happy smile touching his lips, shifting the car's gears with ease. Ishida almost relaxed, feeling reassured at Urahara's confidence, but braced himself again when his head nearly slammed into the window at a sharp turn.

When they finally arrived at the café, he unconsciously let out the breath he had been holding. Urahara turned to look at him curiously, seemingly oblivious to how stressed out he had been during the drive.

"Is everything okay, Ishida-san?"

"Ah… yes… I think."

Chuckling, Urahara got out of the car first and opened the door for the dark-haired boy. They were led to a table in the corner after confirming a reservation and sat down to look at the menus. Not feeling particularly hungry after the ride, Ishida ordered a salad while Urahara picked out a sandwich. There was a momentary silence once the menus were taken away.

"So, Ishida-san… tell me about yourself." Eyes peered at him from underneath the dark hat as a hand lifted a water glass.

"Me? Well," Ishida adjusted his glasses nervously, "you already know I'm an aspiring designer; I hope to have my own label soon. Erm… what do you want to know exactly?"

"How about family?"

He froze slightly, eyes focused on his own water glass as he turned the question over in his head.

"…I have a father. I haven't heard from him in three years."

Urahara blinked and set down his glass.

"Oh… do you mind me asking why?"

"Apparently, I was a disappointment. He went off to start a medical company in another city which I find ironic, considering that kind of company is what made our lives so hard in the first place. Specifically, MOD. Have you heard of them? It stands for—"

"Medical Operations Department."

"Oh, how do you know that?" Ishida stared at him curiously.

"I used to own a medical research company."

"…MOD isn't your company, is it?" He desperately hoped the answer was no.

"No, no." Urahara smiled faintly with a trace of wistfulness and… disappointment? "I had a company called SOUL. Specialization in Organic Unknowns Laboratory. It's no longer around."

"Why?"

"You don't need to know," he replied with a shake of his head. "Any more family members?"

"Not that I know of. Most of the ones I knew… passed away due to an illness."

Urahara frowned slightly at that bit of information.

_It couldn't possibly be…_

The food arrived at that moment and conversation was stalled as plates were set down in front of them. As they ate, they decided to steer away from the previous topics, moving onto more cheerful things like hobbies. Ishida learned that Urahara actually liked to draw sometimes but only if there was something worth his attention. He also learned that he collected first-edition books and had quite a large number of them. Urahara learned that Ishida sometimes did origami in his spare time and had nearly made a thousand cranes. The boy had shyly stated that he wasn't sure what he would wish for when they were completed.

When they stepped out into the late afternoon sun, Ishida felt light-hearted and happy. After giving directions to Ichigo's house, the drive there was unnerving but surprisingly less stressful than the one to the café. Getting out of the car, they stood together in a comfortable silence.

"Maa… I should have ordered a glass of wine," Urahara abruptly pondered, rubbing his chin.

"You shouldn't drive after having alcohol."

"You're starting to sound like Yoruichi-san. I do not get drunk after one glass! It takes at least five…"

_Yoruichi-san? Oh, that woman I see him with._ As Ishida considered that, a dreadful realization crept up on him.

"Er, Urahara-san… she's not your, ah, girlfriend, is she?"

"Hmm? Why, Ishida-san, what would that matter? I don't see why you should care about such a thing." He grinned cheekily as he took a step closer. Flushing, Ishida glared at him.

"Y-you know perfectly well."

"Oh, don't be so upset. I assure you, she is not. She gets too frustrated with me."

"I don't blame her."

"I am wounded, Ishida-san! But I must say, if I know your reason for wanting to know so well, you wouldn't mind if I…"

As Urahara leaned forward, the young designer began to panic, his eyes squeezing shut.

_He's going to kiss me. Am I ready for that? Do I want him to? Is it too soon? I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't—_

Warm lips pressed against his cheek for a moment then pulled away. Eyes cracked open to peer at Urahara grinning at him, eliciting a small smile in return. He felt relieved and grateful that the older man had been so considerate of his obvious panic.

"Same time next week, Ishida-san?"

"I would love to, Urahara-san."

Ishida waved as Urahara drove off and let himself into the Kurosaki household. He didn't think he had ever felt as content as he did at that moment.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The days passed by slowly for Ishida. He completed the work given to him and sketched a few more of his own designs, just like every other day, but found that time felt slower than usual. He couldn't figure out why until Friday arrived, when he realized he was counting down the hours until noon the next day.

_Am I really that impatient to meet him again?_ Ishida mused as his pencil scratched lines across the paper. _It was a nice lunch…_

"Ishida-san!"

He glanced up at Rukia walking over to him from the other room and gave her a nod. "Kuchiki-san."

"We were planning on meeting for lunch tomorrow, just for fun. You know, Ichigo, Inoue-san and me. Do you think you can come?" she asked with a smile, leaning over to peer at his sketches.

…_tomorrow?_

"Er, I don't… I don't think I can."

Rukia blinked curiously, turning her head away from the papers to look at him. "Why not?"

"I-I have lunch plans already…" Ishida trailed off, hoping she wouldn't ask for details. Luckily, she didn't.

"Oh, well, that's fine then! Maybe another time."

Relieved, he turned back to his work as she wandered away. Biting his bottom lip thoughtfully, Ishida doodled a small, familiar looking hat on the corner of his sketchbook page.

_I don't understand why it's so important to me. I've only met him what, three times now? How is it that he affects me like this? And so easily?_

Sighing with a small shake of his head, he pushed his glasses up with a finger and glanced at the clock.

_Twenty-one hours to go…_

* * *

Urahara and Ishida met for lunch that Saturday and the next. And again the week after. It always began with the older man holding Ishida's bag while he locked the studio door and ended with a kiss on the cheek. Then one day, Urahara had something different planned.

"Hello, Ishida-san!"

The young designer jumped in his seat, his pencil flying across the room. With a bewildered expression, Ishida turned to stare at the man standing at the top of the staircase.

"Wh-what… you're early."

"Am I?" Urahara glanced at his watch. "…only ten minutes! Besides, aren't you glad I couldn't wait to see you again?"

"I-I…" Flushing a dark red, Ishida quickly slid out of his chair and started looking for his pencil, crouching over to hide his face. He froze as the pencil flew into view, eyes slowly travelling up the hand and arm to the head grinning brightly at him. "Er… thank you."

"You're quite welcome!" Urahara straightened and wandered over to the large window, peering down at Benihime parked in front of the building. "I was thinking that we might go somewhere else today."

"Um." Ishida busied himself with packing his shoulder bag carefully, tucking pencils and erasers in a side pocket. "Where?"

"There's a nice little place beside the art museum. If you're not busy afterwards, perhaps we could go take a look. What do you say?"

_An entire afternoon with him?_ He slowly closed the flap on his bag and draped the strap over his shoulder before turning to look at figure by the window. Urahara shifted his gaze over to him and grinned.

"Well?"

"I think I'd like that."

"Wonderful! Let's get going!" Urahara proceeded to usher him down the stairs with little shoo-ing motions, waiting patiently with the shoulder bag in hand as Ishida locked the door. Climbing into the car, the dark-haired boy steadied himself for the drive. Although he had grown much more used to the reckless driving, it was still rather unnerving.

Arriving safe and in one piece (despite narrowly avoiding an oncoming semi-truck in a turn), the pair stepped into a small, sidewalk restaurant situated right beside the museum. After eating a small meal, they went next door into the large building. Ishida stepped inside lightly, marveling at the paintings and the sense of calm that washed over him.

"You've never been here, have you, Ishida-san?" Urahara asked softly, trying not to disturb the peace, as he came up behind him.

He shook his head and replied just as quietly, "No, I never had a chance to go anywhere when I was younger."

"Hm." The older man motioned for him to follow as he walked through one of the archways. "Come along! There's a lot to see!"

Ishida tried to follow obediently but found himself lagging behind as he stared at the portraits and landscapes. It was all very beautiful and he felt inspired just from being around such vast amounts of artwork. After trying to memorize a flower pattern based off of one of the sceneries, Ishida realized Urahara had moved quite a few paintings away. He walked quickly to catch up, stumbling and grabbing onto the man to keep his balance. Blushing lightly, he mumbled an apology and straightened, their hands brushing together in the process.

Ishida blinked at the tingling sensation that resulted from the touch and shyly glanced up at Urahara to see if he had noticed anything. He seemed too absorbed in the painting to have had a reaction, so the young designer settled into examining the artwork himself.

_But what was that? …it was nice. I want more of that feeling._

Biting his bottom lip lightly, Ishida slowly reached out to slip his fingers between Urahara's. As they tightened around his own in a warm grip, he felt his face flush again and looked up to see the other's expression. Urahara's lips were quirked upward and he felt his own smiling faintly in return. With an affectionate squeeze to their joined hands, the older man towed the boy along to the next painting.

* * *

They settled back into their normal lunch routine at the café after the museum trip, no longer requiring a reservation for their table in the corner – the managers tended to keep that table clear for them on Saturdays ever since their third visit. The next two weeks followed the same schedule until the third week when Urahara arrived early and stated they would be going somewhere else again.

That day he came up the stairs wearing a completely casual outfit. He was dressed in a pale green, long-sleeved shirt with an overlaying dark green, collared T-shirt and a pair of jeans. His black hat remained on his head.

Ishida couldn't help but stare a little. It was the first time he had seen the man wearing something other than a suit and it was… interesting.

"Where are we headed today, Urahara-san?" He averted his eyes as he packed his bag, lest he be caught staring.

"Well, I remembered what you said the other time – how you never had a chance to go places. I thought I would try to remedy that. Today, we're going to the aquarium!"

Urahara proceeded to grab Ishida's hand and drag him out of the building. Ever since Ishida's little bout of courage in the museum, he had taken to snatching up the boy's hand and pulling him about whenever he had the chance.

It was like he was letting Ishida decide how far their relationship went and how fast.

He wasn't sure what to think about that.

Arriving at the aquarium, Urahara made sure to park Benihime in a spot that would minimize the probability of potential scratches. Ishida watched with an amused expression as he pat the hood of the car before running over to seize his hand. Urahara tugged him along to the entrance counter, paid their fees, and stepped through into the air-conditioned building. Ignoring the souvenir shop for the time being, he led the young designer towards the first of the massive tanks filled with various sea creatures.

They wandered around for a few hours looking into the various tanks. Ishida marveled at the colourful fish, fingers pressed lightly against the thick glass as he peered at them. He glanced at the reflection beside his own and smiled a little at the face watching him. Urahara's expression was thoughtful, focused on him carefully as if trying to remember something.

"Is there something wrong, Urahara-san?" he asked curiously, turning around to face the man rather than watch him on the glass.

"No, no. I was just thinking." Urahara grinned a little, reaching out to snatch his hand again. "Let's head outside! I think the schedule said a show with the orcas would be starting soon."

Grabbing two hot dogs from a vendor, they ate them on the way to the large pool. They watched the performance near the front and as a result got splashed with water. Urahara simply laughed as Ishida swiped at the water dripping down his face. Irritated, the young designer flicked some droplets in his direction. Only laughing more, the man leaned over to drape an arm over the boy's shoulders, intending to kiss him on the cheek. Startled at the contact, Ishida turned his head at the same moment, resulting in the kiss landing on the corner of his mouth. Blushing brightly, he turned his face away from the amused grin beside him.

_That was… almost a kiss._

Trying to ignore the arm and close proximity of Urahara – or at least not focus on it _so much_ – he realized that instead of feeling horrified from the almost-kiss, he felt… cheated. If he had been braver, Ishida might have done something to fulfill that disappointed feeling. Unfortunately, he was still a bit confused about the emotion that grew ever so slightly stronger with each meeting. It occupied his thoughts instead and he didn't realize the show had ended until Urahara stood up from his seat.

"Did you like the orcas, Ishida-san?"

"Oh, yes." It wasn't a lie. He had liked them very much when he was paying attention.

"There's an underground section, you know. You can watch the whales swimming as if you were underwater too."

"Really?" Ishida's eyes widened in curiosity behind his glasses. He had really missed out on so much in his childhood. "Can we, er, go see?"

Urahara grinned and helped him to his feet. Reaching the entrance to the ramp which led down to the viewing area though, they were to be disappointed. A gate barred the way with a notice attached to it.

"Hmm. It looks like we came at a bad time, Ishida-san. They're doing some renovations and it won't be finished until a few months from now." He glanced down at the dark-haired boy with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

The young designer shook his head firmly. "I may be a little disappointed at not being able to see the whales but I had a very enjoyable time with you. I'm never disappointed whenever I'm with you…" he trailed off shyly.

With a grin, Urahara slung his arm around the boy's shoulders again. "Glad to hear it. Shall we get going?"

The sun dipped low, the pastel beginnings of twilight beginning to tinge the sky and clouds. They walked back to the car slowly, joined hands swinging gently between them. A comfortable silence settled over the two as Urahara drove to the Kurosaki household, Ishida idly plucking at a loose thread on his bag. He would have to fix that once he got back.

As they pulled to a stop in front of the house, Urahara pressed the standard kiss to his cheek. Ishida smiled a little and waved as Benihime drove off but couldn't help the faint feeling of dissatisfaction that rose up. He had grown very attached to the mysterious man and wanted a kiss. A real kiss.

* * *

Their little lunch dates resumed the next week at the café. Ishida worked diligently on his designs, sending a sketch off to be made into a prototype. If things went well, he figured he might be able to advertise a show in less than a year. Of course, he worked hard with Rukia's sketches as well. It was his job, after all.

With each Saturday, he tried giving hints to Urahara of his desire for a kiss. He was far too nervous to be the one to actually give a kiss but as three lunches passed by, he was growing frustrated. Was he really that incapable of flirting?

Ishida paused to consider that thought and sighed. _No, don't answer that._

It was a Wednesday afternoon when the phone rang at the studio. Normally, the phone ringing wasn't anything special, but that day Orihime skipped over to Ishida's table and held the receiver out to him. He simply stared at it before silently lifting his eyes to look at her in confusion.

"It's for you, Ishida-kun!" she bubbled cheerfully, pressing the phone into his hand before heading back to work. Adjusting his glasses, he lifted it to his ear.

"Hello…?"

"Hello, Ishida-san! How's work?"

"U-Urahara-san?!" Ishida hastily glanced around to see if anyone had heard him. He had spoken rather loud. "How did you get this number?"

"Maa, you're not happy I'm calling?"

"Er."

"Besides, it's not that hard to look up Hell Moth in the phonebook." There was a pause. "Or to just read the number off the name card I got from Kuchiki-san at the fashion show."

The boy rolled his eyes a little before replying. "I can see that now. Why are you calling?"

"I'm afraid I can't make lunch this Saturday—"

_Oh…_

"—but if you're not busy, I can take you out to dinner instead!"

_Oh!_

"I'm… I'm fine with that."

"Lovely! I'll come get you at Kurosaki-san's house at six-thirty then?"

"Ah, yes."

"I'll see you then. Bye!"

Ishida pressed the button to hang up and stared blankly at the phone. _Dinner? That'll be different. Now that I think about it, he keeps planning intermittent events every so often. Why is that?_

Shrugging a little to himself, he replaced the phone in its stand before returning to work.

Saturday evening came soon enough and found Ishida waiting nervously on the stairs at the Kurosaki household. Ichigo and his family had left for dinner earlier. They had offered him to join them but he refused politely, explaining he already had plans. A knock on the door sent Ishida darting forward to open it. He was glad he had decided to wear something more formal that evening as he saw Urahara standing there in a suit less casual that usual. With a little bow and a grin, the man motioned towards the car.

"Shall we go?"

They arrived at an expensive-looking restaurant, a valet taking Benihime off to the parking lot. Walking inside, they were led to a table by the window overlooking the city lights. Urahara glanced at the wine list, but put it away sheepishly at a glance from Ishida.

"Don't worry. I'll refrain from having a drink since you're with me."

"Thank you." Ishida glanced down at the menu and felt his eyes widen at the prices. "Er, Urahara-san… are you sure this is okay?"

"Hm? Oh, don't worry about that. I thought you'd have noticed by now that money isn't an issue with me. It's a special occasion, too," he noted with a grin.

"But… special occasion?"

"You're not very observant, Ishida-san," Urahara chided teasingly. "It's the three-month anniversary since our first lunch date! Haven't you noticed that I took you somewhere special every fourth meeting?"

"I was going to ask about that actually." Ishida fought down the blush that threatened to rise. _It was really quite thoughtful of him to mark each month that way. I hadn't even noticed so much time had passed already…_

"Ah, so you did realize it!"

The dark-haired boy gave him a small smile as he looked up. "Thank you for all this, Urahara-san."

"I'm happy to do it," he replied with a warm grin. "Let's order."

The dinner was relaxed and cheerful as the evening progressed, both enjoying the other's company. Eventually, they left the restaurant and Ishida was driven back to the household. The pair stood outside in the night air for a moment, illuminated by the nearby street lamps. As Urahara turned to him, Ishida could see it – could see he wanted to kiss him. But the kiss only pressed against his cheek again and he felt his frustration rise up as Urahara made his way over to the driver's side door.

Before he could climb into the car, Ishida found himself bursting out, "Why won't you kiss me?!"

Startled, Urahara blinked at him as a dark blush spread across the boy's face.

"I-I mean…" he trailed off faintly, fists clenched at his sides in embarrassment. Ishida almost didn't notice the older man's soft footsteps as he moved to stand in front of him. A hand reached out to gently tilt his head up, to meet his eyes.

"Are you sure, Ishida-san?" Urahara asked softly, leaning closer. "I was trying to give you a chance to change your mind, you know."

"Why?"

"Because," his fingers trailed along a flushed cheek, "once I kiss you, there's no turning back."

"…you're so arrogant."

A wide grin flashed across Urahara's face before he pressed their lips together. Ishida's eyes flew shut as he found himself melting into the kiss. Urahara's hat brushed against his forehead as their mouths slanted over each other, his lips parting to allow entrance. Ishida wasn't sure how long they stood there in the lamp light, mouths moving together. He just knew it ended too soon.

Staring a little dazed up at Urahara, he smiled, eliciting one in return. Kissing him softly one more time, the older man stepped back slowly.

"Goodnight, Ishida-san."

"Goodnight…"

As Urahara left, Ishida drifted into the house, feeling giddy and lightheaded as he climbed the stairs. Things were good. He hoped it would stay that way.

* * *

_A/N: _Fluff. Oodles of fluff. Ahaha.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The following Monday, Ishida drifted into work, still feeling quite happy. He got ahead on converting Rukia's sketches, the lines seeming to flow from his pencil more easily, and darted off to pick up a quick lunch during his break. When he returned, a massive bouquet of flowers sat on his desk. Rukia, Ichigo and Orihime were all crowded around it, staring blankly at the explosion of colour.

Ishida felt the blood first drain from his face before returning with a vengeance. He slowly trekked the last few stairs and shuffled over to them.

"Uh…"

"Ishida-kun, do you know who sent you these?" Orihime asked curiously, peering over the plastic wrapping. "They're very pretty."

"I…"

"Oh, there's a little card! Ichigo, read it."

The orange haired boy rolled his eyes at the short girl beside him but plucked the card off its plastic holder anyways. "You do realize that there's a nicer way to ask."

Rukia simply stared at him expectantly until he yanked the card out of the envelope with a noise of exasperation.

"Okay, okay. It says:

_Roses are red,_

_Violets are blue,_

_Your kisses are like honey,_

_And I bet you taste like it too._

_P.S. Actually, they tasted like mint, thanks to the little candies from the restaurant._"

A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled over the group of four. Ishida idly wondered if his face would have been able to blend in with a fire hydrant at that moment. A quiet cough broke them away from staring at the blushing boy.

"…so, Ishida-san. Who are these from?" Rukia asked, concentrating hard on keeping her gaze on the flowers.

"Oh, there's a signature here," Ichigo added. Glancing at the name, he shrugged and slotted the card back into its plastic holder. "Someone named 'Urahara'?"

"Urahara? That name sounds familiar." The raven-haired designer tapped her chin thoughtfully before her eyes brightened in remembrance. "Ah! Urahara Kisuke! I remember him, he was at the show."

Another silence fell over the group as Ishida shifted nervously.

"'Him'?"

"Ohh, Ishida-kun likes boys?" Orihime asked brightly, smiling while she tilted forward curiously. "I like boys too!"

"Er, thank you, Inoue-san. And well, I… I do like _him_…" he trailed off quietly, his face growing an even darker shade of red.

"That's so cute!" Rukia grinned. A voice called for her help and she huffed a little, turning to leave. "_You_ will explain yourself in more detail later."

The phone rang in the other room as well and Orihime skipped off. "I'll get it!"

Ishida shuffled forward to stroke the flower petals lightly, feeling a little touched that Urahara had bothered to send them. He almost didn't notice that Ichigo was still there, smirking faintly at him.

"So you have a boyfriend, Ishida?"

Behind the glasses, eyes narrowed slightly. "What? There's nothing wrong with that."

The orange-haired boy lifted his hands in a placating gesture, laughing a little. "Calm down! I didn't say there was. Besides, it doesn't make a difference to me. You'll still be the smart-ass who beat me on every test."

"That's because you rarely studied."

"Yeah, whatever," Ichigo snorted, crossing his arms. Orihime bounded into the room then, one hand covering the mouthpiece of the phone.

"Ishida-kun! It's for you – I think it's Urahara-san." The girl held out the phone with a big smile before heading off to her work table again. Ichigo merely smirked at him once more before wandering off to find Rukia.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Ishida-san! Do you like the flowers?"

"They're very lovely but uh, about the card…"

"Oh! Did you like my poem?" The dark-haired boy could practically hear the sly grin in the voice as its tone shifted lower. "I do plan on finding out, you know."

_What?! _Ishida's face flamed as he stood there with the phone pressed to his ear, mouth moving but no sound managing to come out. He needed to sit down.

"Well, that wasn't the only reason why I called," Urahara said brightly, seemingly oblivious to the lack of response on the other end. "I wanted to know if you would be willing to join me for dinner more often."

The young designer struggled to find his voice and forced out a reply of, "When?" He didn't think that was quite what he meant to say but Urahara still appeared to understand.

"Well, I was thinking tonight and tomorrow… and Wednesday… and Thursday…" His voice trailed off into an obvious grin.

A smile crept onto Ishida's face as the days were listed off. "There aren't enough days in the week then."

"I'll come get you after work?"

"I'll be waiting."

"See you then, Ishida-san!"

"Bye, Urahara-san."

* * *

Medical Operations Department, otherwise known as MOD.

The large research building sat nearly at the heart of the city with busy roads surrounding it. It had grown drastically in the past ten years, two massive additional wings and a third still in construction. Hundreds of scientists were employed and practically lived in the building offices which covered the first, second and third floors. The next three floors were reserved for the patients, those who had volunteered to test the latest cures produced by the company.

From the public view, the things MOD achieved were miracles and they were grateful to have such a place. People were cured and sent back into life through the glass doors, all due to the hard work of all the scientists.

On the inside, things were very different.

Certainly, patients were cured while others remained, still hoping for a medication that would work for them. But it all came at a price. To receive treatment, to remain in the building during treatment, to stay _alive_ when a treatment went wrong… they all required payment. If they could no longer afford the services provided, they were ordered to leave. Naturally, this meant that the majority of patients were wealthy or if not wealthy, providing their entire life savings in hopes of living. MOD was staying far away from doing things for the "sake of research".

The scientists were indeed very dedicated to their work but only in fear of keeping their jobs… and their lives. Staff members who grew sloppy or those who showed signs of wanting to leave were plucked away from their coworkers and sent to the basement levels.

There were four floors underneath the building, all devoted to a much darker purpose. The President of MOD controlled the workings on these floors personally. Experiments were done here and they had nothing to do with cures. The workers sent to these lower floors were forced to become test subjects because they had no choice. Within twenty-four hours, their very existence was erased from the rest of the world – identification gone, memories of all friends and families erased – and there would be no one to save them.

All of the workers learned they were trapped by the time their first day of work was over. They also learned to fear the President.

Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

From a distance, he seemed like a normal, well-mannered businessman. His hair was an odd shade of grey, almost blue in appearance. But one look at his eyes made anyone suspect his sanity.

He had a daughter who, although attractive and soft-spoken, the staff grew to fear as well. Kurotsuchi Nemu. She was always sent to retrieve the doomed scientists and hearts stopped in fear whenever she stepped into a room.

Nemu was currently going to deliver the news to a middle-aged worker on the third floor. Two security guards followed her – there was always a struggle. Opening the door to room 328, there was a moment's pause before a dead silence blanketed the people inside, all of them freezing at their work tables. She let her eyes drift before focusing on a weary-looking man named Yamamoto Kenji. He had been with MOD for five years but now, his work was slipping and Mayuri wanted him out.

Her heels clicked as she walked into the room and she cleared her throat quietly. "Yamamoto Kenji. You are to proceed to basement level two."

Nemu's face remained blank as a low, keening wail tore out of the man and stepped aside for the two guards. Taking a firm hold, they nodded to her and she led the way out to the elevators. It was here that they parted ways, as she stepped into one elevator and the others took the adjacent one to the basement. Nemu watched the numbers rise impassively, moving precisely at the moment the doors opened onto the seventh floor.

She made her way down the short hallway towards the large oak doors and knocked sharply.

"Enter."

Striding inside, Nemu moved to stand before her father's desk and bowed.

"Is he gone?"

"Yes, Kurotsuchi-sama."

"Good. Although that totals to five already and it's only Monday. We'll need to start hiring people at this rate." Mayuri's voice was raspy and managed to cause everyone to shiver except Nemu. "Write up a job posting and send it out next week."

"Yes, Kurotsuchi-sama."

"Also, I've been hearing rumours of a certain someone in the city. Find out if they're true."

"Yes, Kurotsuchi-sama."

An eerie smile slid across his face. "If they are true, things are going to get interesting."

* * *

Urahara stood on the patio attached to his penthouse suite, leaning against the railing as he stared down at the city. Letting the breeze blow past him, his mind wandered before finally settling on something that had been bothering him for quite some time. He turned to walk back inside and picked up his cell phone, flipping it open in an easy motion. Settling down onto a couch, he idly counted the rings.

_One… two…_

"Hello?"

"Yoruichi-san, there's something I need you to do for me."

"…is it illegal?"

Urahara let out a short laugh. "I don't believe so."

"I was hoping for a more confident answer than that but I suppose it'll have to do. So what is it?"

"I need you to research something. Or _someone_ to be exact."

"Ishida Uryuu?"

"Yes," he replied. "I hate to do it – it feels like I'm checking for a criminal record or something – but it's not that. I have my suspicions but I need to be certain."

"Are you sure it wouldn't be better not to know, Kisuke?"

"No. No, I need to know this."

"Okay, then," Yoruichi sighed, "I'll give you a call when I get all the information organized."

"Thank you, Yoruichi-san. You know I appreciate it."

"Yes, yes. I'll talk to you later."

With that she hung up and Urahara slowly flipped his phone closed. He stared blankly at the coffee table in front of him, dangling the tiny electronic device between his fingers. Tilting his head back to rest against the top of the couch, he hoped the research wouldn't take long.

* * *

A tall, pale-haired man stepped off the train into a bustling crowd of people. Adjusting his glasses, he gripped his luggage and made his way out of the station to call a taxi. After a short detour to drop off his suitcases at a hotel, the cab continued on towards the hospital. Paying the driver, he walked through the sliding doors and stood before the receptionist.

"Can I help you?"

"Ishida Ryuuken. This hospital's new director if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh!" The girl's eyes widened in surprise, hastily picking up the phone. "They're waiting for you upstairs on the eighth floor. Room 801. I'll page them to let them know you're coming."

Merely nodding at her, Ryuuken stepped into an elevator and waited for it to arrive at his floor. He was introduced to the other department heads, followed by a long meeting in which details were explained. By the time he sat down in his office, many hours had passed and the sun had begun to set.

It had been three years since he had last been in this city. Intending to start a medical company on his own in one of the neighbouring cities, instead he joined the staff of their hospital. Upon reaching the highest level of administration, he received an offer back in this city, as their hospital director was retiring by the end of the month. So here he was.

Ryuuken stood before his office window, hands clasped behind his back as he observed the city calmly. The city had grown quite a bit, buildings towering over the streets being fixed to accommodate more lanes. He had noticed that MOD was still under construction but tried not to dwell on it. If he had no reason to, he would not get involved with anything to do with that company.

Finally, he let himself wonder on the whereabouts of his son. He would be twenty years old by now, assuming he had managed to survive on his own. Ryuuken smirked faintly. Uryuu was an Ishida, he would have found some way to make it through the years. If he was still in the city, perhaps they would meet someday.

But just like MOD, if he had no reason, he would not go searching for him. He would let him live however he liked as long as he wasn't doing something stupid.

Turning back to his desk, Ryuuken sat down to begin the paperwork that awaited him.

* * *

_A/N: _Thank you so much to those that reviewed, I really appreciate it. :D


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A week after the embarrassing incident with the card and flowers – _especially_ the card – Ishida found himself hijacked off to a lunch with Rukia and Orihime. Planning on grabbing a sandwich from the bistro next door and coming back right after to work while he ate, he had packed his bag quickly and stepped away from his desk. He was abruptly attacked from both sides and dragged down the stairs, desperately trying not to trip over the short designer in front of him.

At least he still got his sandwich from the bistro.

As the three were seated at a table, the two girls stared at him, causing him to shift uncomfortably and attempt to hide behind his menu. A slender finger reached out and pulled it down, revealing Rukia with a wide grin on her face.

"So, Ishida-san," she drawled, "how about you start by telling us how you two met and we'll go on from there?"

"Uh…"

_Sometimes Rukia can be really scary,_ Ishida thought as he tried to sort out everything that had happened. _I kind of feel sorry for Kurosaki._

"Well, we met at your show, if you couldn't guess."

"That's what I thought. But what happened? What did he say to you? What did you say back? How did you get from that to being well, a _couple_?"

The dark-haired boy blinked helplessly at the barrage of questions and started to form an answer when the last word scattered his thoughts. _A couple? We're a couple? …wow. _He fell silent as his mind considered that and found he quite liked the idea.

"Ishida-kun…?" Orihime prodded at him gently with a spoon.

"What? Oh!" Ishida pushed up his glasses in an attempt to hide the blush rising to his cheeks. "Well, Kuchiki-san, you had pushed me into a crowd of people. I was getting rather flustered and wished someone would get me away for a few moments… when he showed up out of nowhere and took me outside."

"Urahara-san was your knight in shining armour then!" The orange-haired girl clapped her hands in delight before pausing with a thoughtful expression. "Does that mean Ishida-kun is a princess?"

Rukia and Ishida both turned to stare at her blankly. After a moment's silence, Rukia focused her gaze back on the young designer and smiled. "Go on."

"We talked a little before he was dragged off. Then next time I saw him was actually during our dinner with those other designers, Kuchiki-san. I, er," Ishida paused in embarrassment, "I followed him to the bathroom."

The raven-haired girl laughed before patting his hand comfortingly. "It's okay, Ishida-san. Stalking him ended up being a good thing, didn't it?"

"Yes," he smiled faintly, "He asked me to lunch that Saturday."

"No wonder you were red."

Ishida adjusted his glasses again with a quiet cough. "Yes, well, we started meeting for lunch every week; sometimes, he took me other places. Then the Saturday before I got those flowers at the studio, we went out to dinner. He said it was our three-month anniversary and that night he… well, he kissed me."

Both girls squealed loudly, startling him out of his reverie of memories and attracting the attention of the other restaurant patrons. Flushing, Ishida shrank down in his seat, wishing he could just go back to work. He reached out to grab his water and drank slowly, trying to force the blush away.

"Ishida-san," Rukia grinned at him cheekily, "Is he a good kisser?"

He spluttered, snatching up a napkin to wipe away the water that managed to dribble down his chin.

_Operation 'Reduce Blush', status: fail, _he thought with a sigh.

"What?" Ishida croaked, coughing to clear out the liquid that had attempted to travel to his lungs.

"Oh, come on. You can't tell us he kissed you and not give us an opinion on it," she replied, unfolding her napkin neatly across her lap. "Well?"

"He… he's very good."

Thankfully, before Rukia could attack him for more details, their food arrived. They ate in silence but he could see her eyeing him in an odd manner the entire time. When the plates were taken away and their drinks were all that sat on the table, she leaned forward with a contemplative look on her face.

"Ishida-san, forgive me for being rather nosy, but I wonder about something." Ishida felt his eyebrow twitch at that. _She wasn't being nosy before?_ "Do you love him?"

"E-eh?!" His eyes were wide as he blinked at her. "Kuchiki-san, I-I think it's entirely too soon to know something like that."

"I beg to differ." Large grey eyes considered him silently before she continued. "Sometimes, it doesn't take much to know if you love someone."

"Like love at first sight!" Orihime chimed in, swirling her drink with a straw.

Smiling, Rukia nodded. "Yes, like that. So, Ishida-san?"

His heart beat wildly, so loud he could hear it, and his stomach twisted in anticipation as he considered the suggestion. Lunch dates and dinners danced across his thoughts, especially the past week where they ended in kisses he didn't want to stop. Slowly, Ishida raised his eyes to look at the two girls and opened his mouth to answer…

* * *

"Ah, Ishida-san!" Rukia bounced over to his desk with the phone. They had returned from lunch only two hours ago and he tiredly wondered what she wanted now. "I have an idea!"

"Idea?"

"Ichigo's birthday is next week and I had plans for a small dinner party. Originally, I was just going to ask Inoue-san and you but I've decided that you should ask Urahara-san to come too. That way we can all meet him and you don't have to give up an evening with your boyfriend!" she stated, clearly proud of her ingenuity.

Blinking, Ishida rubbed his neck thoughtfully. "I suppose that's fine…"

"Good! Then call him and ask." The phone was shoved into his face and he stared at it a moment before taking it out of her hand.

_Yes. Definitely scary at times._

Looking down at the number pad, Ishida realized something.

"Kuchiki-san, I have a little problem with calling him," he said, an embarrassed expression crossing his features.

"What? What's wrong?"

"…I don't know his number."

"He always calls me! And I never have a reason to call him… well, until now," Ishida explained, idly tracing the buttons with a finger. "Can't this wait a little while? I'm having dinner with him tonight, so I can just ask then."

Huffing, Rukia snatched the phone back out of his hand and started to walk into the other room. "Fine, but he had better come!" she called back to him. "I want to find out more about this Urahara Kisuke!"

* * *

Luckily, Urahara seemed perfectly happy to come along to Ichigo's birthday party, stating that he would look forward to meeting everyone. He had also laughed at Ishida's little phone mishap, scribbling down his cell phone number and handing it over to the boy.

"Now you can call me whenever you need me," he had said with a warm smile, causing the young designer's heart to beat faster as he nodded slowly.

Ichigo's birthday fell on a Saturday; after having breakfast and lunch with his family, he said he would meet them at the restaurant for their dinner party. Urahara had claimed he didn't know where the restaurant was, as he hadn't been in town for a long time, and asked Ishida if he wouldn't mind meeting him at the hotel instead so that he could provide directions.

So that was how Ishida found himself standing in front of the hotel building, staring up at its towering height with a bit of nervousness. Stepping inside, he glanced around at the expensive looking lobby, a lounge and bar occupying the far corner, and approached the front desk.

"Excuse me…"

"Yes? How may I help you?" A man with a nametag that labelled him as a manager looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"May I ask how I might find Urahara Kisuke?" Ishida may have been nervous in a crowd of people, but when facing someone one-on-one, he knew how to speak properly and in a way that would have them respect him as well. All thanks to being raised by his father he supposed. The only exception to this was Urahara, for some reason. Speaking to him always threatened to send him into an incomprehensible state.

Surveying Ishida, the manager looked as if he were comparing the boy's face to some mental image. That was exactly what he was doing – Urahara had described him in detail. "Ah! You must be Ishida-san. Yes, he left a message telling me to inform you to wait in his room. Shall I assign you an escort?"

"Yes, thank you," his mouth automatically replied, but he felt his mind scatter at the words. _…wait in his room?_

A bellboy soon arrived and led him to the elevators. He tried to remain calm as the digits lit up, taking him higher and higher to the very top, and stepped out softly as the doors opened with a chime.

"You'll want the door on your left, sir."

Thanking him, Ishida turned to look down the short, wide hallway leading to a set of creamy double-doors. He could hear the elevator close smoothly behind him as he moved forward and blinked at the folded note tucked carefully in one of the curved door handles. It opened into familiar, efficient script that read: '_The door's unlocked. Come right in!_'

Ishida reached out and slowly opened the door with a sharp click. Peering inside, he let out a sigh of awe at the sheer size and elegant furnishings of the penthouse suite; he was looking out into a living room and dining room area, with a small kitchen in the corner to his right, and to his left he could see a door that led presumably to the bedroom. He took off his shoes, placing them next to a pair that he recognized as Urahara's, and stepped onto the plush carpet as he looked around.

"Urahara-san?" he called out, walking into the living room. When there was no reply, Ishida padded over to the pair of glass doors that opened onto a patio, staring out at the scenery for a moment before turning back around. He eyed the bedroom door with some trepidation.

Adjusting his glasses, Ishida opened the door and went inside. Blinking in surprise, he discovered that there was another living room-type area that occupied half the room, while the other half had the king-sized bed. The young designer noticed a light coming from underneath a door which he assumed led to the bathroom and knocked on it lightly.

"Urahara-san…?"

"Ah! Ishida-san!" The reply sounded muffled. "I'll be right out, just take a seat."

Glancing over his shoulder at the couches arranged in front of the fireplace, he selected one at random and sat down gingerly on the plush cushion.

"Will we be late?"

"Eh? No, I don't think so. It's not very far from… here…" Ishida trailed off into silence as Urahara waltzed out of the bathroom, drying his hair.

Clad only in a towel.

A towel that appeared perilously close to simply dropping off the hips it wrapped around.

Ishida stared. And stared.

"See something you like?" he teased with a wide grin, the towel draped over his head shadowing his eyes much like his hat.

Gripping a pillow that sat on the couch beside him, Ishida hurled it at the nearly naked man. Urahara skipped neatly out of the way and back into the bathroom with a laugh.

"You did that on purpose!" The boy choked out, burying his burning face into another plush pillow.

"Of course! You're very adorable when you blush," he called back, the sound of a hair dryer abruptly drowning out any reply Ishida could have made.

* * *

Ishida refused to speak to the grinning man during the car ride to the restaurant, simply pointing when a turn approached. Once Benihime was parked, he started walking quickly to the entrance, only to be stopped short as a hand closed around his wrist gently.

"Ishida-san, are you going to ignore me the whole evening?" Urahara asked, pouting a little.

Glancing up at him, Ishida sighed. His annoyance had mostly dissipated by the time they had left the hotel – it was hard to stay mad at Urahara – but now it was definitely gone. "You're horrible."

"You know you love me!"

The young designer fell silent at the words, his heart thudding. Urahara peered at him curiously, noticing the odd change in his mood.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-no! Ah, let's get inside. They must be waiting for us."

Ishida almost sighed in relief when Urahara decided not to say anything more. He waved back politely to Rukia flinging her arm back and forth wildly as they stepped into the restaurant. Sitting down at the table, there were introductions all around, with Urahara appearing perfectly at ease.

"You know," he started to say as their menus were taken away, "I'm surprised Ishida-san never tried to get Kurosaki-san's attention."

Rukia burst into hysterical laughter. Unfortunately, Ichigo and Ishida had been drinking from their water glasses at the time and both promptly started to choke.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, the small, dark-haired girl tried to catch her breath. "Ahaha… I like you, Urahara-san."

"Well, that's very good to hear!"

The rest of the evening went smoothly, interrupted only by a few more embarrassing comments from Urahara which caused Rukia to start crying with laughter again. Orihime made a few _unusual_ statements which he replied politely to and at times the two of them lapsed into a conversation that made no sense to the rest of the table. Eventually, all that was left on the table were various drinks and the remainders of desserts.

Urahara glanced at his coat pocket as it began to ring, pulling out his cell phone to look at the number. Ishida didn't notice how his eyes seemed to darken and merely smiled at him when he excused himself from the table. Moving off to the side, he flipped it open.

"Yoruichi-san."

"Kisuke…"

He frowned at the tone of her voice. "How bad is it?"

"It's pretty bad. I've gathered a lot of information and… we really need to talk about your situation with Ishida Uryuu."

Urahara lifted his eyes to gaze at Ishida sitting at the table. For Yoruichi to say it was 'pretty bad' meant…

"Meet me at the hotel tomorrow at noon. We'll talk then."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"So, that's everything."

"Are you sure you didn't-"

"Oh, believe me. I didn't miss anything. For your sake, I double-checked all my information," Yoruichi said, slouching back on the couch.

Urahara sighed, hands clasped before his face as he stared darkly at the coffee table in front of him. Yoruichi had arrived promptly at noon and began to talk, information pouring out of her in a stream of words - words that made his life entirely too difficult.

"I had suspected half of what you told me but I would have never dreamed of the other half. The first half was easy; he looks so much like his father, I'm surprised I didn't realize it right away. The second half, on the other hand," he closed his eyes as he tried to imagine what she had described to him, "it is simply unthinkable."

"You can't say you didn't suspect his motives from the very beginning. I remember you telling me your doubts when SOUL was just getting started."

"All the more reason why I should have been able to stop him."

Yoruichi leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her eyes solemn. "It's not your fault, Kisuke."

"You say that but do you think he will?" Grey eyes opened to stare back at her. "If I look at it from his point-of-view, Ishida-san has every reason to hate me."

"He won't. Not if you just tell him and explain it all." She lifted a lock of her long, dark hair and began to absently twist it through her fingers. "What happened occurred after you left, so you had no part in it."

"That's exactly my point. If I hadn't left, it may not have happened at all."

"You had your reasons for leaving." Yoruichi paused to eye him sharply. "_Legitimate_ reasons."

Urahara simply shook his head, eyes lost beneath the shadows of his hat. There were times that Yoruichi hated that hat – now being one of them. She prided herself on being fairly good at reading people's faces but he was one of the few that were impossible to read, experts at hiding their emotions. His one weakness, if you were to call it that, was his eyes. They were such expressive features that they always gave away his emotions, no matter what kind of stupid grin he had pasted on his face. She supposed he had realized this because one day he had taken to wearing that hat and since then, she rarely saw him without it.

She didn't need to see his eyes to tell that he was not particularly cheerful at the moment though.

"Kisuke, just tell him," she sighed. At the lack of response, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You _are_ going to tell him, aren't you?"

He made a noncommittal sound before standing up and exiting out onto the patio.

"You're only going to make it worse if you don't tell him soon!" Yoruichi called to him as she picked up her briefcase. "I'm sorry it had to turn out this way, I really am. Just, call if you want to talk, okay?"

A hand lifted from the railing to wave at her vaguely while he stared down at the city. Shaking her head a little, she let herself out.

* * *

Ishida was worried.

It had been a month since Ichigo's birthday and things had seemed fine but he had noticed that Urahara's mood had… changed. He still laughed, still grinned, but the boundless joy that used to be there was faded and strained. Ishida often found himself frowning in concern at the man whenever he wasn't looking. Something was wrong and he didn't know what; he hated not being able to fix whatever it was when Urahara had done so much for him already.

As a result of this, Ishida's own mood had become slightly temperamental and he found it difficult to focus on his work. Instead of spending his spare time after work sketching out designs, he curled up on his bed with little squares of paper, patiently folding them into cranes. He only had a hundred or so remaining until he reached a thousand and was already forming a wish in his mind. Something he wouldn't have wished for five months ago.

The days passed and it only felt as if Urahara was drifting even further away. The young designer felt panicked, wondering if he had done something wrong or if it was something his friends had said at the birthday dinner. But Ishida never said anything because what if he was overreacting? What if he was just being paranoid?

Everything became much worse when Urahara started to avoid their dinners altogether.

Ishida scratched idly at the paper on his worktable, tracing over the same line again and again. He was supposed to be translating one of Rukia's drawings but his heart just wasn't in it.

"You're going to make a hole through the paper if you keep on doing that, Ishida-san." He looked up to see Rukia standing by his desk with a gentle smile. "Is everything okay?"

Opening his mouth to say he was fine, he changed his mind and simply shook his head with a little sigh.

"What's wrong? I've been watching and you seem to be getting moodier by the day."

"Well, I suppose it's nothing really. I just haven't seen Urahara-san in a while…" Ishida started to half-heartedly trace the pencil line again.

The tiny, dark-haired designer tilted her head a little. "Did something happen?"

"I don't think so. He did tell me that he was going to be busy for a week or so."

"Oh! If he said that, why are you so worried?"

"I don't know," he replied, frowning down at the paper before him. "Something just didn't seem quite right."

"Why don't you – oh, hello! May I help you?"

Ishida blinked and turned in his chair to see who Rukia was talking to. Yoruichi stood at the top of the staircase, her face unreadable as she gazed back at him.

* * *

Yoruichi had gone to visit Urahara earlier that morning and was not pleased at what she saw at all. She found him flipping through the pages of one of his first-edition books, several others stacked on the floor around him where he sat propped up against the couch. Immediately, she knew something was wrong – Urahara never brought out his books unless he needed a distraction.

"Kisuke, what's wrong." It was a statement, not a question to be argued with. Of course, that never stopped him from avoiding an answer before.

"Why, Yoruichi-san, nothing's wrong."

"You're with your books. That means something is wrong."

"Mm?" He blinked at her innocently. "I'm only bored."

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes at him. After so many years of being his friend and employee, she had learned to never trust that innocent look of his. "…why don't you go visit Ishida?"

Something flashed across his face so quickly that she couldn't tell what it was, but it was still enough.

"He's busy today," Urahara stated shortly, looking back down to flip a page.

_Well, it's something about Ishida, that's for sure_, she mused to herself. _I have a feeling I know what it is…_

"So, how did he take the news?"

"Fine."

Yoruichi released a noise of frustration and left without another word. When Urahara got into moods like that, it was impossible to talk to him. He could reply in short sentences that never really answered the questions for hours on end, only resulting in her wanting to strangle him. Luckily, there was another source of information who would probably be a lot easier to talk to.

So that was how she found herself seated across Ishida Uryuu in the bistro next-door to the Hell Moth studio. It wasn't very hard to notice that he looked as moody as Urahara.

"Ishida, how are things between you and Kisuke?" she asked gently.

"That's practically what Kuchiki-san just asked me," Ishida said, staring down at the tabletop. "I haven't seen him in almost two weeks."

She stared at him, her suspicions beginning to fall into place. "Did he say why?"

"He said he was going to be busy. Did he say anything to you about that, Yoruichi-san?"

"Ah… yes, he did." She gripped her suitcase, wanting to dart off right at that moment. "But I think he'll be done by this evening. Give him a call after dinner, I guarantee he'll answer."

"Oh, okay." It pained her to see his mood lighten a little.

"I have to get going, I'll talk to you later, Ishida."

"But you just got here?" The young boy blinked up at her in confusion.

"I just remembered I had something to do." Yoruichi stood up but paused to look at him. _Just to make sure I'm not jumping to conclusions…_ "Ishida, did Kisuke say anything important to you last month?"

He frowned, clearly confused. "No, not really."

"I thought so."

She arrived back at the hotel in record time, storming into the penthouse suite to see Urahara still seated among his books.

"My, my, two visits in one day. Should I feel honoured, Yoruichi-san?"

"You didn't _tell him_?!"

The grin on his face vanished. Standing up slowly, he gathered up his precious books and began to pack them back into the box they came from.

"He doesn't need to know."

"Kisuke, you're being completely unreasonable! You're acting like some immature, love-sick teenager…." She trailed off to stare at him. "That's it, isn't it. You love him."

Urahara tucked the last book into place before flopping onto the couch, his face hidden in the shadows of his hat. "If I tell him what I know, I'll lose him."

"You'll lose him with the way you're treating him right now." Yoruichi walked over to sit down beside him. "He misses you, Kisuke. By just abandoning him like this, you're only hurting him. I told him you would answer if he called tonight because I assured him you wouldn't be 'busy' then."

"Why didn't you tell him everything yourself?" he asked coolly, glancing sideways at her.

"Because it's not my job to do it," she snapped back. "From what I can see, you have two options: one, tell him despite the fact that you've already hidden it for over a month and deal with the circumstances, or two, act like it never happened and just try to be happy with him. Although I really discourage option two, I have a feeling it's the only one you'll consider. The only reason why I'm even offering it is because he doesn't deserve what you're doing to him right now, Kisuke. You're being unnecessarily cruel and I can tell you care too much to want to do something like that."

Urahara leaned forward, resting his forehead against clasped fingers. "You're right. He doesn't deserve to suffer just because I feel guilty."

"I assume you're not going to go for option one." He only smirked, causing her to sigh in resignation. "It's your risk, Kisuke."

* * *

Urahara waited patiently for the phone call, using that time to force his guilt away. If he was going to love the boy, he was going to keep him as happy as possible. Ishida deserved some happiness in his life.

They spoke briefly and he reassured Ishida cheerfully that nothing was wrong, apologized for acting strange for the past month. He could hear a tone of relief touching the young designer's voice as Urahara told him that he had plans for them the next night. It wasn't a lie, he had arranged the evening's events almost two months ago and had meant to cancel them but ended up leaving them on some internal hope. He was glad he had kept them.

The next evening, Urahara picked up Ishida for dinner, greeting him with a gentle kiss as an apology. The boy smiled slowly, entangling their fingers and giving the older man's hand a squeeze before climbing into Benihime. Their meal was subdued, almost as tentative as their first date, as if they were trying to rebuild something that had almost slipped away from them. But their bonds were stronger now and rebuilt quickly; by the end of the dinner, it was like nothing had happened.

As the pair climbed back into Benihime, Urahara leaned over to open the dashboard compartment and pulled out a strip of cloth. Ishida frowned at it suspiciously. "What's that for?"

"It's a surprise! And I don't want you peeking." He reached out to tie the strip around Ishida's head, careful not to make it too tight so that his glasses became uncomfortable.

"You could have just taken my glasses away. I'm practically blind without them."

"I'll take note of that for next time." Urahara grinned and started up the car.

When they reached their destination, he helped Ishida out of the car and steered him gently towards the building. Nodding in thanks at the caretaker who pulled open the gate, they walked together down the ramp.

"Okay, Ishida-san! Are you ready?"

"…I think so."

Urahara laughed and untied the fabric, pulling it away from the boy's eyes. They stood in the newly renovated underground viewing area of the aquarium, the lighting dim so that it wouldn't intrude on watching the whales. Ishida's lips parted in surprise as he stepped slowly towards one of the large windows, a dark shape moving past it. His fingers pressed against the surface as he watched the orcas swim gracefully through the water, his face an expression of pure awe. Urahara smiled gently as he watched him and walked forward to join him only to stop in his tracks as the designer turned to look at him.

Multi-faceted light shimmered over Ishida from the water's reflection and his eyes were bright with gratitude as he gazed at him. It was such a beautiful image that he felt his voice catch in his throat and his heart twisted in turmoil.

_I should tell him._

"Ishida-san, I-"

"Urahara-san, I need to say something." Ishida dropped his eyes, fidgeted a little. "Something was wrong the past month and I don't know what it was, but I'm glad it seems to be over. In all my life, no one has ever treated me like you have. I've never trusted anyone as much as you either. There are no words to express exactly how thankful I am to you, to have met you. There's only one thing I can offer…"

Urahara froze. He knew what was coming. He needed to stop him, tell him all that Yoruichi had informed him of before he said anything but… he wanted to hear it. He needed to hear it.

Ishida looked up, met his eyes and smiled nervously. "…I love you."

"Uryuu…" The name was out before he could stop it. Urahara had wanted to call the boy by his first name for quite some time but had refrained from doing it. He watched as Ishida's eyes widened in surprise, as he stepped away from the window to walk towards him.

"I haven't had someone call me that for so long," he said softly. "I like hearing it from you."

"Uryuu," Urahara repeated. His resolve was crumbling, the chance to explain everything was a moment in the past. All he had left was to devote himself to this relationship entirely. "I love you too."

Ishida beamed at him before flinging his arms around the man in a hug. After a moment, he pulled back with a blush, pushing up his glasses with a finger.

"Ahah, I just… I don't think I've ever felt so happy before." He peered up at Urahara shyly. "Does this mean I can call you… Kisuke?"

Urahara grinned and bent down to kiss him. "As many times as you like."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The end of August passed by and September rolled in along with a new school year. Ichigo was entering the final year for his bachelor's degree and often came into the studio laden with recently purchased books, complaining about their prices. He would sit by the window, sorting them into specific piles with that ever-present frown on his face. Sometimes, Ishida would see Rukia skip over to him with a newspaper in hand, jabbing enthusiastically with her finger at an ad, and they would speak quietly for a few moments.

One day, Rukia came bounding up the stairs with a bright grin on her face, followed soon after by Ichigo who looked rather pleased as well. Ishida blinked at them curiously as the small designer spun around once with her arms spread wide.

"We found an apartment!"

"Ah, congratulations, Kuchiki-san!" Ishida smiled as she skipped over, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. She spun him around with her before releasing him back into his chair.

"Thank you, Ishida-san!"

Rukia paused to eye Ichigo who was still standing by the stairwell. She suddenly launched herself at him, causing him to stagger a little at the sudden weight attached to his back.

"What the hell?!"

"Oi! You're too quiet! Aren't you happy about this?"

"Gah!" The orange-haired boy tried to keep his balance and gripped the small arms draped around his neck. "Well, I'm sorry if I'm not as expressive as you are. Besides, you know I'm happy – I'm the one who found the place."

"Hm. That is true." Rukia slid off his back and rearranged her outfit. Spotting Orihime in the other room, she grinned and raced off. "Inoue-san!"

"So where is the apartment located?" Ishida asked politely, rearranging his glasses.

"Eh, not too far from here." Ichigo paused to point out the window. "Around two blocks south which is nice because then Rukia can just walk to work. It's a pretty decent place."

"That's very convenient for Kuchiki-san."

"Yeah. We'll be moved in by the end of the month." He glanced at the dark-haired boy. "What about you then?"

Ishida blinked. "Eh? What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, when I move out of the house, you're going to be left with my little sisters and my old man. I thought you might feel a bit awkward or something." Ichigo smiled a little as he ran a hand through his spikes. "I'll miss Yuzu and Karin but I definitely won't miss waking up to a kick in the face. Although I guess I can't be sure that Rukia won't do that…"

"You're right…"

"About Rukia?"

"No," Ishida smirked at him, "but I won't deny her capability of doing such a thing. What I meant was that you were right about it being awkward. You were my only real connection to your family – it wouldn't be right for me to stay now. Perhaps I need to start looking for an apartment."

He was still thinking about his situation when he met with Urahara for dinner. Ishida tried to pay attention to the conversation but eventually lapsed into silence as he wondered what he would do. A finger tapping him lightly on the nose brought him out of his thoughts and he blinked at the man across from him.

"Uryuu, you're being rather quiet," Urahara noted with a gentle smile. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san found an apartment."

"Did they? How wonderful! They must be happy about it."

Ishida smiled with a nod. "They are."

"That still doesn't explain why you're staring off into space."

"Oh," he murmured, flushing lightly, "It's just that with Kurosaki moving out of the house, it would be a bit odd for me to still live there. And I do have a steady income now so I was considering going to look for an apartment somewhere."

"Mm, I see." Urahara gazed at him thoughtfully, a finger tracing the rim of his water glass slowly. "Uryuu, would you let me offer a suggestion?"

"Of course!"

"Why don't you move in with me?"

Ishida dropped the fork he had been holding onto the plate with a clatter, blinking in surprise. "W-what?"

_Move in with him?_

"We've been together for over five months already and we like spending time together. What would be so wrong about it?" Urahara asked, a smile on his lips.

"N-nothing's _wrong_, it's just…" The young designer frowned a little. "I don't know."

Leaning forward, the older man reached out a hand to gently cup a flushed cheek. "Uryuu, I would be very glad if you came to live with me, but if it's not something you want, that's perfectly fine."

"No, no, it's not that. I think I would like that very much but… are you sure you want me to?"

"You silly boy! Of course I would!" Urahara grinned and pat his cheek affectionately. Ishida smiled in response and nodded a little.

"Okay then. I suppose I ought to let Kurosaki's father know that I'll be leaving too."

* * *

"They're all leaving me, Karin!" Isshin wailed. "_Are you leaving me too?!_"

"Unfortunately not. I'm stuck here for at least a few more years," Karin muttered, poking at her food.

"So _cruel_ to daddy! Yuzu, did you hear your sister?"

"Yes, father. But you have to admit that we won't live at home forever," Yuzu replied softly, filling a bowl with rice and putting it in front of him. "Eat your dinner."

An expression of pure horror froze on Isshin's face as he stared at his two daughters. "My family is _betraying me_! My heart is filled with the pain of a thousand knives!"

Ishida and Ichigo exchanged similar glances before picking up their chopsticks. It became easier to ignore the doctor's expressive behaviour the longer one lived in the house. Ishida could still remember his first dinner with the household – he was so shocked when Isshin tackled his son to floor in a headlock as they stepped into the kitchen. Now, he just considered himself lucky to have never received that sort of treatment.

"So you're moving in with Urahara-san?" Ichigo asked through a mouthful of rice.

"Mm," the young designer confirmed, smiling slightly. "It makes me a bit nervous but I'm looking forward to it."

"Ishida!"

He jumped a little but managed to keep a hold of his chopsticks as he turned to look at Isshin. "Ah… yes?"

"I insist on meeting this man before you move in." The doctor had stopped his crying from before and was now looking at him with an almost serious expression. "You've spent almost three years with us and I consider you like a part of the family. It wouldn't do to have you running off with someone dangerous."

"Oh, but I assure you he's not-"

"No excuses! Invite him over for dinner tomorrow, if you like."

And so that was how Ishida found himself leading Urahara up to the front door of the Kurosaki household the next evening. Placing a hand on the doorknob, he paused to glance back at the older man.

"I think I should warn you that Ichigo's father can be very… enthusiastic."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine, Uryuu," Urahara said, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. Ishida merely sent him a faintly apologetic look before opening the door.

"Hello? Er, I've brought Urahara-san for dinner…"

They stood together – Ishida with some awkwardness, Urahara completely at ease – and watched the Kurosaki family members come out to greet them. Ichigo made his way down the stairs with a casual wave while his two sisters poked their heads out of the kitchen. Isshin's head joined theirs a moment after.

"Why, hello, Isshin," Urahara stated calmly, a wide grin spread across his face. Ishida blinked and stared at him speechlessly._ …what._

"Kisuke! I thought I recognized the name but I had no idea that Ishida was talking about you. How long has it been?" Isshin laughed as he walked down the hallway.

"Not since college, so almost twenty years."

"A long time… you do know what this means though, don't you?"

"Hm?"

"I swore I would beat you in a drinking contest someday."

Urahara's grin grew even bigger, if possible, and a challenging glint flashed across his eyes. "Let's see, shall we?"

* * *

"Hahaha, remember when we spray-painted all the doors on campus? Then we headed to that lovely little bar afterwards!" Urahara said loudly, head pillowed on one arm and the other attached to a cup of sake. Isshin shook his head unsteadily, swinging his empty sake cup around.

"No, no, no… you've got it all _wrong_, Kisuke. If I remember right, _I _got caught by security and _you_ went to the bar." He paused for a moment, squinting at his former classmate. "Hey... you _left_ me."

"Did I?" Reaching out, Urahara slapped Isshin on the back. "I'm so _sorry_!"

"Bah, who cares. _More sake_! "

Ichigo and Ishida sat watching the two men drink themselves into idiocy. It was rather astonishing, really. Yuzu and Karin had gone off to bed a little earlier, tired of watching them babble on about their college years.

The drinking contest had started the second all the dishes from dinner were cleared from the table. By this time, they had been drinking steadily for three hours. After a few more rounds, drinks were being splashed all over the table and floor and Isshin wavered in his seat. He opened his mouth to say something, only to abruptly crash face-first into the table.

"Heehee... I win again!" Urahara giggled gleefully.

Sighing, Ichigo stood up and started to move his father to the couch. At a look from Ishida, he shrugged. "What? I'm not dragging him all the way upstairs. And you might want to take care of your boyfriend over there. He might as well stay here."

Ishida turned to look at Urahara, who was still giggling madly into the tabletop, and couldn't help but smile because, well, it _was_ amusing. Walking over to him, he shook the man's arm gently, taking the sake cup out of his hand and setting it down a safe distance away.

"Kisuke…" he called softly, helping the unsteady man to his feet. He braced himself against the heavy weight, grasping the arm that hung around his shoulder.

Urahara blinked at him blearily and grinned. "Hello, Uryuu! You're so pretty… I _love_ you!"

The young designer blushed, hearing Ichigo snicker, and his steps faltered as he made his way up the stairs to his room.

"Where are we _going_? I need to drive home..."

"Oh, no. I think not. You're staying here tonight," Ishida replied, huffing as he pushed the door open. Neatly dumping Urahara on the bed, he moved to close his bedroom door with a tired sigh. He froze as arms slid around his stomach and blinked at the face beside his.

"Kisuke, wh-what are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing. So I'm staying with you tonight?" Urahara smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Stop it. You're drunk."

"Actually, no, I'm not. Not completely alcohol-free but definitely not drunk."

"You're – what?" Ishida frowned at him but then realized that he was oddly coherent compared to just a moment ago. His breath didn't smell particularly strong either.

"How do you think I won against Isshin all those times in college?" Urahara chuckled. "All I had to do was make him _think_ I took a drink and then just watch him drink himself into the table. Didn't you notice me spilling quite a bit?"

Ishida thought about it and could remember noticing an awful lot of sake being splashed around. Cups being slammed down on the table so hard that the alcohol sloshed out of them and arms waving around wildly, sending the liquid splattering all around the kitchen.

"I admit I did drink the first few but to be honest, I was never a fan of getting drunk out of my mind. I prefer to stop before it reaches the point where you wake up with a splitting headache," Urahara commented, slowly tugging the boy towards the bed. "Now, let's head to bed."

"Well, I'm glad you aren't drunk," Ishida pushed his arms away and grabbed his pyjamas with a small smile. "But I would prefer to at least brush and change before getting into bed. You can probably borrow a pair of pyjamas from the closet across the hall and use the bathroom beside it. Here's an extra toothbrush."

Tossing over an unopened package, he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving Urahara to do his own thing. When he came back out, he stopped in his tracks at seeing the man seated calmly on his bed, wearing an old pair of Isshin's pyjamas. The lights were off.

_Oh, right. He's sleeping in my bed. …why did this not occur to me earlier?_

"Um, right. So."

Urahara stood and stepped softly over to him, trailing fingers over a pale cheek that was slowly turning pink.

"Now, now. No need to worry." He smiled. "I promise not to do anything unwarranted. Besides, if you're going to be moving in with me, you might want to get used to this."

Ishida smiled back faintly and his eyes flickered to the hat that he had always seen on Urahara's head. Tentatively, he reached out and lifted it off, fingers lingering to trail through the pale strands of hair. It was remarkably soft. His heart skipped a beat as he stared up at eyes free from shadow and glinting in the moonlight that streamed through his window. There was just so much emotion that could be read in them… and it was all directed at him.

Eyes closed as their lips met gently and the hat fell quietly to the ground. Ishida let out a soft gasp as Urahara's mouth moved to his neck, hot over the pulse that raced there. Their mouths met again and he felt them move backward before tumbling onto the bed, breathless and flushed. He breathed heavily, watching as his shirt was pushed up slowly, his stomach tightening as a hand slid back over the exposed skin. The hand moved lower and lower and Ishida closed his eyes again as he felt fingers glide over his hip.

"…wait."

He opened his eyes to see Urahara gazing at him questioningly.

"I… not yet. I'm not ready for that yet. I'm sorry, Kisuke."

Urahara shook his head with a gentle smile, smoothing the boy's shirt back down and pulling up the blankets. "No need to apologize, Uryuu. All in good time."

Curling up on his side, Ishida sighed softly, comforted by the arm draping over his stomach as Urahara settled down. He smiled at the kiss pressed behind his ear and removed his glasses, placing them on the bedside table.

"Goodnight, Kisuke."

"Goodnight, Uryuu. Sleep well."

Grasping the arm wrapped around him, Ishida held the hand to his chest. Soon his eyes drifted closed, lulled to sleep by the warm breath on his neck.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Put that down, old man!"

"Hoho, _nonsense_, Ichigo! Let's have a contest to see who can carry the most boxes!"

Ishida idly watched as Isshin stacked up the boxes before him. Before the doctor could attempt to lift them all, he was tackled from the side by his son who started to grapple with him.

"You idiot! You're going to break something!"

"It pains me that you lack faith in daddy!"

They were currently outside the Kuchiki residence, loading up Rukia's packed boxes into a rented truck. Ichigo's things had been piled into it a few hours earlier in a surprisingly short amount of time, despite Isshin draping himself over the boxes as he cried.

"That's the last one!" Orihime announced, shutting the back of the truck. She and Ishida had volunteered to help with the moving; they were promised dinner for their efforts.

"Oi, Rukia, let's get going." Ichigo rubbed his shoulder as he stepped towards the truck, as Isshin had twisted it behind his back in response to the tackle. His scowl softened when he saw her standing before her brother.

Although he had relented and helped support her career, even though she stayed with Ichigo, things had become distant between Byakuya and Rukia. Of course, that was assuming they had been close to begin with, which wasn't the case. Their entire family had never been outspoken about their emotions but her relationship with Ichigo put a strain on what little connection she had had with her brother. Rukia often wondered if he would ever accept the choices she had made.

"I guess that's it then," she said softly, eyes averted to the ground. "Do feel free to visit, big brother."

When there was no reply, Rukia sighed and turned to go.

"…take care, Rukia."

With a tiny smile, she spun back around to hug him impulsively. Slowly, Byakuya placed a hand on her head, his features unreadable but gentle.

"I'll make sure she's happy, Kuchiki-san," Ichigo said, a determined look on his face.

"…hn."

Piling into the truck, they left for the new apartment with Rukia waving enthusiastically at her brother as they drove off. It was early in the afternoon but they still had a lot of work ahead of them – basic furniture and appliances were already set up but required rearranging, not to mention all the boxes that needed to be _unloaded_.

The apartment was a decent size and cozy, perfect for a young couple. By the time everything had been brought out of the truck and _most _things unpacked into their proper places, the sun had been set for hours. They opted to order in pizza and while Rukia listed off their requests into the phone, the others made themselves comfortable around the small couch.

"…Ichigo."

"What do you want, old man?" Ichigo replied with a sigh.

"Now that you're going to be living with a girl, I think it's time I told you about the birds and the bees," Isshin stated seriously. "You see – ACK!"

"Shut up!"

"But how will you become a man if you don't know?"

"_Shut up!_"

Ishida and Orihime simply watched as a red-faced Ichigo punched his father over the back of the couch.

The pizza arrived and they ate with a radio providing some quiet dinner music. Picking up a stray pineapple from the open pizza box, Rukia settled her thoughtful gaze on Ishida.

"So, tomorrow we're helping you move in with Urahara-san, right?"

"Yes," he replied with a smile.

"They're all _leaving_! I'm going to be so _lonely_ – GACK!" Isshin was abruptly silenced by the dull clunk of a pop can hurled at his head.

Rukia grinned brightly at him. "Are you excited?"

"Of course, but a little nervous too."

"That's only natural. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll love it."

The next morning had the truck loaded with Ishida's things and they set off for the hotel. He had very few possessions so it only took a short time to do so, although Ishida insisted upon carrying one small box personally letting no one see what was inside. Isshin had to go in for work at the hospital, so he helped unload the boxes before heading off. It turned out that the extra help from Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime wasn't needed as Urahara had sent a few bellboys to carry everything up. Crowding into an elevator, they rode up together and were greeted at the top by the hat-wearing man himself, who waved them inside.

"Come in! Come in! Make yourselves comfortable!" Urahara smiled, stepping over to Ishida as the others went to explore inside. "Hello, Uryuu."

"Hello, Kisuke." He smiled back as a light kiss was pressed to his lips in greeting.

They followed after the bellboys, thanking them as Ishida's things were deposited inside the suite. When Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime finally settled down onto the living room couches, they walked over together. As they stood before them, Ishida couldn't help but notice how Urahara's hand moved to rest against the small of his back. It felt so natural that he couldn't stop a small smile from touching his lips.

"Hey, Ishida-san, I'm beginning to think I moved in with the wrong person," Rukia remarked teasingly, lounging back on the couch. At Ichigo's scowl, she rolled her eyes and sat up to pinch his cheeks. "Silly, Ichigo. You know I don't mean that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He bat away her hands in annoyance. "Stop it! I hate it when people do that."

Laughing, Rukia leaned over to pinch them again.

"This place is so big," Orihime observed in an awed tone. "I think a hundred of my apartments could fit in here!"

Ishida shook his head in amusement. "Maybe not _quite _that many, Inoue-san."

"It's a good idea for you to move in though, Ishida-san! Urahara-san must be lonely to have so much space and no one to share it with," she replied, smiling brightly.

"I agree," Urahara cut in, nodding at her with a grin. "It's a very good idea."

It was late when they all left, after being treated to a dinner brought up by room-service. Ishida waved at them as the elevator doors closed and stepped back into the penthouse suite with a quiet sigh. Closing the door after him, he leaned back against it, eyes glancing upwards to meet with Urahara's.

_Strange how I can feel so nervous. I've been alone with him a countless number of times and yet… it's so different. _Ishida switched his gaze to stare at the floor, fidgeting with his hands._ It's knowing that neither one of us will leave at the end of the evening. Knowing that I'm actually living with him now._

His eyes flew back up when a hand touched his chin gently, tilting his head upwards.

_…knowing that he'll always be near me like this._

"Uryuu..." Urahara cooed, stroking a cheek with his thumb. "You're so tense. That simply won't do."

"It wha-?!" Ishida abruptly stopped talking as he was picked up and carried over to the living room. "Kisuke, what are you – gah!"

Grinning down at the form sprawled on the couch, Urahara tapped his chin contemplatively. "Now, what could I do to loosen you up? How about… tickling?"

The boy's eyes widened and he started to sit up with a sound of protest when the older man's fingers descended upon him. Straining against them, he started to laugh, pushing helplessly at the hands attacking him. The sound of his laughter caused Urahara to stop and sit back with a thoughtful expression.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"It's been a long time since I've had a reason to."

Smiling, he leaned forward to kiss Ishida softly. "Well, how about we find out what else can make you laugh?"

"Ah, wait! I just remembered something!" The boy abruptly climbed to his feet, effectively escaping any further torture, and picked up the box he had left by the doorway. Holding it out to Urahara, he flushed. "It's… well, think of it as a sort of housewarming gift. Er, even though that doesn't make any sense."

Urahara opened the flaps of the small box, curiosity written on his face. When he saw what was inside, he smiled tenderly, reaching in to pull out one of the strings. "Uryuu, you finished your cranes?"

Ishida nodded, adjusting his glasses in embarrassment. "I thought we could hang all of them somewhere. I've already made my wish – I-I can tell you if you want to know…"

"No, no," The older man moved to kiss him on the forehead affectionately. "Haven't you seen _Cinderella_? Your wish won't come true if you tell someone. Now, let's find somewhere to put these."

The young designer smiled brightly at him, pulling out a string of cranes of his own as the two searched for a place to hang them all.

* * *

Ryuuken pushed back from his desk, standing to gaze out of his office window. He had been working for approximately four months now. It was a demanding job but putting order to chaos and arranging things how he wanted them was exactly what he liked. It left him with a sense of satisfaction.

He often traveled to the other floors of the hospital, checking in on the occasional patient but mostly just to observe the other doctors. If they were to work in his hospital, they would do it right. Ignoring any warnings given to them was perfectly fine; it would be easy to find another doctor to replace them.

Turning to exit his office, Ryuuken felt that perhaps he should do one of his rounds right now. He nodded at his secretary and boarded the elevator, heading for the ground floor so that he could work his way up. It wasn't until he reached the sixth floor that something caught his attention. Crowded around the nurse's station, a group of doctors chatted amongst themselves. Not something that would merit a warning but as a piece of the conversation drifted to his ears, he walked over as quickly as possible.

"…they both moved out about a month ago."

"Yeah? How does it feel to have the house so empty?"

"It's _horrible_! I can't even bear to think of the day my two daughters decide to leave."

"You're so overdramatic, Kurosaki. Well, as long as they're all happy, right?"

"Yes, that's true. Ichigo's happy and the other boy, Ishida, I've never seen him happier," Isshin chuckled. "To think he moved in with my old roommate. That boy had better watch himself, Kisuke can be a handful. I remember when – oh, hello, Ishida-san, do you need something?"

Ryuuken stared at the doctor before him coolly, though he felt the urge to grab him by his collar and demand information. "You spoke of a boy – Ishida. What was his first name?"

"Oh, it's 'Uryuu'. Why? Is he a relative of yours? You do look an awful lot alike."

"He's my _son_."

Isshin blinked then scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, that would explain it too. I wonder where you've been these past three years though, leaving your son on his own without any help."

"That is none of your business," Ryuuken replied, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "I would like to confirm something. You say he has moved in with this 'Kisuke'. You're not speaking of 'Urahara Kisuke', are you?"

"That exact one. Your son's boyfriend, actually. Why?"

_Boyfriend?_ Giving into the compulsion, he yanked Isshin forward, eyes remaining cold. "Tell me where my son is."

* * *

Early November came along with a drop in the temperature and a promise of rain. It was Ishida's birthday that day. Luckily, the evening for the celebration seemed kind enough to postpone any falling moisture for a later date. There was a nip in the air but it was nothing that a warm coat couldn't oppose.

He had woken up to a pleasant kiss and breakfast in bed from Urahara. It was strange how easily he had fallen into complete comfort at living in the same place with the older man. Ishida couldn't recall ever sleeping so well or feeling such joy from arriving home.

Home.

That was another thing he often thought about. Three years living in the Kurosaki household and he had never considered it 'home'; only a month with Urahara and he couldn't imagine naming it anything else. Whether it was having someone greet him at the door with a bright grin and kiss, or the way his few possessions had found their own niches throughout the suite, Ishida knew he was in a place he could truly call home.

Sleeping in the same bed wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought it would be either. The morning after their evening in his room at the Kurosaki residence, he woke curled up in Urahara's arms, feeling remarkably calm and safe.

Of course, thinking about that only reminded him of the heart-pounding encounter that had happened _before_ they went to sleep. Since that night, Urahara stayed true to his word and never pushed him to the point where he became uncomfortable. That didn't stop him from giving the occasional fleeting caress and heated kiss that hinted of things Ishida knew nothing about – though now, he wished he did.

It all seemed very familiar to Ishida, these teasing glimpses that left him craving for more. When he finally figured out the connection, the young designer knew he would have to let Urahara know that he was ready – ready for something more in their relationship. Just like their first kiss, he would have to set things in motion.

Unfortunately, any sign he might have wanted to give to Urahara would have to wait for the evening, when they all met up for dinner. The older man had stated that he had a few things to do before then and had left with a mysterious grin. So Ishida was left to sit through his workday wondering what his boyfriend was up to and how to let him know that he wanted… well, that.

His problem appeared to become less difficult after Rukia stopped by his desk with a birthday greeting.

"Happy birthday, Ishida-san!"

"Thank you, Kuchiki-san," Ishida replied with a distracted smile, still contemplating what he would say to Urahara.

"What are you thinking about?" Rukia asked, peering at him carefully.

"Ah, nothing! Nothing at all, I just-"

"You want some action, don't you?"

His face flushing a dark red, Ishida sputtered, "K-Kuchiki-san!"

"Oh, please," she muttered, leaning forward to tap him on the nose. "It's written all over your face – if anyone looked you in the eye, they could see it. So, what does Urahara-san think about this?"

"…he doesn't know yet."

"Ooh, hoping for a special birthday evening then?" She grinned, nudging him in the shoulder.

"M-maybe," Ishida adjusted his glasses nervously. "I don't know how to tell him though."

"Well, like I said, anyone could tell if they looked at you carefully enough. So just catch his eye," Rukia smirked and turned to leave. "I'm sure he'll know what you want."

When they were all finally seated at the restaurant, Ishida avoided eye contact with anyone, worried they would see exactly what Rukia had. He really didn't need that sort of embarrassment. Urahara arrived soon afterwards, giving the birthday boy a warm kiss in greeting. As the dinner progressed, Ishida started to fidget nervously, darting glances at the older man seated beside him. By the time dessert had been cleared off the table, his stomach was full of butterflies and he wanted to throw something at Rukia for the "meaningful" looks she had been sending him all evening. He was somewhat relieved and filled with anticipation when Urahara stood and ushered him to his feet.

"I'm sorry to cut this evening short but I still need to give Ishida his present." The man grinned and waved at the other table members. "I'll be seeing you all another time, I'm sure."

"Thank you for coming, everyone." Ishida turned pink as Rukia winked at him while he and Urahara left the table. The last thing he could see was the tiny, dark-haired designer grinning as Ichigo and Orihime turned to her in confusion.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Ishida asked quietly, watching road names flash by his window as they sped down the road.

"You'll see."

Knowing that Urahara could be flawlessly secretive when he wanted to be, he settled back in his seat, recognizing a few stores he had visited in the past. They soon came to a stop in front of an old building that sat on the corner of two streets. Darting out of Benihime before Ishida could say anything, Urahara opened the passenger side door and held out a hand.

"Come see," he grinned, eyes bright in excitement. Curiosity overpowering his nervousness for the moment, Ishida let himself be helped out of the convertible. He was led to the front door of the building and handed a small box.

"Open it!"

Blinking, the boy lifted the lid off the box and stared at the key that lay inside. "What is it for?"

"Your very own studio."

"My… _what?_"

Stepping towards the old building, Urahara pat the doorway firmly. "This building here is going to be your studio. Of course, it's going to be completely renovated so it won't be finished for at least three or four months."

Ishida stared at him, hand gripping the key as his heart beat almost painfully in his chest. The older man turned to smile at him gently.

"Happy birthday, Uryuu. I hope you like it."

This man truly cared for him, loved him. And Ishida loved him back with all his heart and soul. If there was any doubt in his mind about his desire for more in their relationship, it was gone.

Flinging himself forward, he kissed Urahara hard, passionately, desperately. He wanted to be closer – to be as close as possible to this man who changed his life completely. When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Urahara stared at him, almost in awe.

"Uryuu, what-" He fell silent as blue eyes met grey and an understanding passed between them.

"Kisuke, take me home."

The drive back to the hotel was silent, Ishida still nervous but buzzing underneath with excitement. When they finally walked into the suite, he made his way to the bedroom, leaving the lights off and turning on the fireplace with the flick of a switch. As he straightened, he could hear the soft click of the door and inhaled a shaky breath.

The night was long and they had all the time in the world.

* * *

A/N: There is a lemon/smut scene but the rules say I'm not allowed to post it here (I think?). If you want to read it, I've put up a link on my profile to the LJ post with the chapter. :D


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Ishida cracked open his eyes slowly. Shifting a little, he winced at how sore he felt but found it wasn't so bad that he couldn't ignore it. Other than that, he was utterly blissful. His eyes drifted shut again, remembering fingers sliding over his skin and the many moments of pure pleasure, and a faint flush rose to his cheeks as he smiled. Sighing, Ishida propped himself up and groped for his glasses on the bed-side table. He had taken them off the second time around. Rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, he put them on and blinked in surprise at seeing Urahara half-reclined on a chair he had pulled close to the bed. He was sketching something very intently.

"Kisuke…"

Warm, grey eyes lifted to his face and a smile stretched across the man's face. "Good morning, Uryuu. How do you feel? Sore?"

"Yes. All thanks to you." Ishida glared as Urahara chuckled quietly. Annoyance faded away as his curiosity perked up instead. "What are you doing?"

"Drawing."

"But you told me that you only draw things worth your attention."

"Exactly. Which is why I'm drawing you." He grinned and the pencil started scratching lightly across the paper again.

"Oh."

Gathering the blankets around him, he dragged them and himself onto the floor and padded over to Urahara's side. Peering down at the sketch, he smiled in appreciation – Urahara was really quite good at drawing. It was an image of him sleeping, surrounded by the fluffy pillows and comforter, and Ishida guessed that he must have started only a few hours earlier. Standing there, he noticed two things: one, Urahara was drawing in his sketchbook and more importantly, two, he was fully dressed.

"…are you going somewhere?" he asked, trying to make it sound casual.

Setting down the book and pencil, Urahara reached out to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. He smiled up at him. "Oh, now don't worry, Uryuu. I'm not going to just get up and leave after last night. I only have a few errands – I'll be back in the afternoon."

The unoccupied hand reached up to tug at the blanket Ishida held up to his chest, coaxing it down until his stomach was bared. Leaning forward, he pressed a few soft kisses to the pale skin, causing the boy to inhale a shaky breath.

"We can have some more fun then."

Ishida couldn't help but smile at the promise. Feeling bold, he lifted his hands to tilt Urahara's head up and bent down to press a slow kiss to his lips.

"I'll be here," he whispered before gathering up the blankets again and heading to the bathroom.

Grinning impishly, Urahara scribbled a final note on the drawing before shutting the sketchbook. Setting it down on a table, he sauntered after the boy. The sound of water from the shower was soon followed by an indignant yelp.

* * *

Ishida sat on the bed in a fluffy bathrobe, combing his hair. After that little _visit_ in the shower, Urahara had set off to do his errands with a final kiss, letting his fingertips linger for a moment on a wet cheek. He smiled at the memory as he tucked his bare feet underneath him and let his gaze drift around the room thoughtfully. It was amazing how much could happen in seven months – amazing how his life could feel so complete just because of one person.

Sliding off the bed to change into his clothes, he stopped as the phone rang, blinking at it curiously.

_Who could be calling? Oh, maybe it's Kuchiki-san… she probably wants details. _Ishida shook his head a little but lifted the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Good morning. We have a call on hold for an Ishida Uryuu – shall we put them through?"

"Yes, I'll take it." Ishida started walking towards the closet with the phone in hand, considering what he would wear that day. However, the voice which drifted through the phone made him freeze in his tracks, the blood draining from his face.

"Uryuu."

"…Ryuuken."

* * *

Standing in the hospital lobby, Ishida waited for the elevator to arrive, watching patients roll by in beds down one of the hallways. He wasn't sure why he had agreed to come and doubted his decision even as he stepped onto the elevator. His father had stated that he should come and meet with him at his office to discuss important matters. Giving only his office location, Ryuuken had abruptly hung up.

Ishida ran a thumb absently over the hem of his shirt as he travelled upward, a frown touching his forehead. It was strange. Three years of absence and suddenly he was back, demanding a meeting. Why now? Why_ at all_?

He looked up as the elevator chimed and the doors opened, revealing a mahogany receptionist desk among painted walls of muted-green and dark-grey carpeting. It was all rather drab and depressing. Walking towards the girl seated at the desk, he cleared his throat quietly.

"Excuse me."

The girl paused in her typing to look up at him. "Yes?"

"Could you point me in the direction of Room 821?"

"Oh, you must be the director's son!" She smiled at him and pointed down the hall on her left. "He'll be on the left side of that hall."

"Thank you," Ishida replied softly, turning to follow her directions. His steps slowed as the numbers increased and brought him closer to something he began to instinctually dread. He finally stopped before the glass door and wall of his father's office, staring in at the man absorbed in his paperwork.

Unconsciously, Ishida's back straightened and he raised his head – Ryuuken may have left him at seventeen, but he had been the one to raise him. He pushed open the glass door without even knocking, his heart pounding; Ryuuken had appeared to not notice his presence outside the office, but Ishida knew better. Just as he thought, a smooth voice drifted over to him as he stepped inside.

"Where are your manners, Uryuu?" The pale-haired man glanced up at him, eyes cool and emotionless. "I thought I had taught you better."

"I didn't think you deserved the courtesy, Ryuuken."

"And to call your own father by his first name… perhaps I shouldn't have left you. You might have learned how to properly respect your elders."

Ishida's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at his sides. "Enough. I know you didn't ask me here for this. What is it you want?"

Ryuuken pushed back from his desk and moved to stand in front of his window, hands clasped behind his back. "Very well, I'll get straight to the point. I have heard some news about you and I do not approve at all. I demand you stop seeing this Urahara Kisuke."

"I…" Ishida stared blankly. _… what?_ "What? What makes you think you can order me to do something like that?"

"Because it is the sensible thing to do, Uryuu."

"But you _left_ me. You left without leaving me any place to live or any way to survive-"

"And yet here you are," Ryuuken observed quietly, staring calmly at his son.

"That isn't the point!" Ishida glared back at him, nails digging into his palms. "Why should I carry out your wishes when I haven't seen you in three years? Why should I give up someone that makes me happy for you? You don't even know him!"

A pale eyebrow rose at that, and the hospital director began to step slowly towards him. "Don't I? Uryuu, that man used to be the president of SOUL."

"Yes, he told me that," Ishida frowned warily. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Slight surprise crossed Ryuuken's features as he stopped in his tracks, soon replaced by a faint smirk. "You're a fool, Uryuu."

The young designer frowned more, anxiety creeping up his back with cold fingers. "Why?"

"You know of MOD, know of Kurotsuchi Mayuri. Before Mayuri took charge of the company, MOD was formerly known as SOUL."

* * *

Twenty years ago, a brilliant young man graduated from the university. Having enrolled two years early from high school, in only four years, he completed his Bachelor of Medical Laboratory Science and Doctor of Medicine – it was rumoured that he could have finished sooner but chose not to and was known to be quite prominent among the campus parties.

Directly after graduation he set to work at creating his own medical research company. It was to be a laboratory where cures for all types of diseases would be created. In only a year his company grew remarkably, receiving multi-million dollar research grants from several other drug companies. His efficient methodology and pure talent produced test vaccines and other drugs within months. All around the city, people spoke of him and his miracle research.

The company was known as SOUL or 'Specialization in Organic Unknowns Laboratory'.

The man was Urahara Kisuke.

* * *

"… you're lying," Ishida said softly, his eyes wide and panicked. "He told me MOD wasn't his company. He_ told me_."

Ryuuken stared at him dispassionately. "And you believed him?"

"He had no reason to lie to me."

"Well, I don't know about that. You moved in with him, didn't you?"

"That… Kisuke wouldn't lie to me!" Glaring, Ishida started to wonder if his palms would start bleeding if he clenched his fists any harder.

"Kisuke?" Ryuuken raised an eyebrow as he studied his son. "It seems you're more attached to him than I thought. I suppose I could say 'like father, like son' just this once; Urahara Kisuke is far too good at manipulating people to get his own way."

"What do you mean?"

"I once trusted him too – a mistake on my part that I don't plan on repeating. He betrayed all of us, Uryuu, after the merger of our companies, but you were too young to remember any of that."

* * *

On the outskirts of the city, there was a family-run research facility. Before the creation of SOUL, it was the only company which handled the creation of drugs to be tested. All of the workers were related – either biologically or through marriage – and they formed their own community near the research building, with a population the size of a small town. Children who grew up and obtained medical degrees tended to return with their families and join the others in their research. The head position of the company was appointed through choice of the former head.

Twenty years ago, Ishida Ryuuken was chosen as the head of the Quincy Corporation.

That very same year, SOUL came into existence and gained country-wide recognition, as well as the attention of the newly appointed head. Ryuuken watched the progress of SOUL for the following year, observed the man behind it all, before making a drastic decision.

A year after SOUL opened its doors, it merged with Quincy Co. and altered its name to MOD-SOUL.

Ryuuken had deduced that to attempt to keep Quincy Co. as a separate, competitive business would be foolish, while a merger would create benefits for everyone. Urahara had been more than willing to accept the offer, commenting that the more brains working to create cures, the better. In the end, Ryuuken had agreed to let Urahara become the company president, as SOUL had been the larger component and more of his funds were being used.

Their first disagreement occurred two years after the merger.

Without conferring with Ryuuken, Urahara appointed a newly hired graduate to become the vice-president. He patiently explained his reasons, stating they were perfectly suited to the role – a degree in medicine and business – and it was left at that. Ryuuken never trusted the vice-president and began to hold a grudge against the cheerful president, feeling the position was rightfully his.

The vice-president was Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

Things ran smoothly for the following two years, Urahara gaining a name in the medicine and business world. Soon after bringing Mayuri to the company, he also hired Shihouin Yoruichi, a friend from childhood and recent graduate. She became his financial planner and advisor, setting to work at organizing everything he had obtained up to that point.

Then one day, a patient with a strange new virus arrived at the hospital. With the doctors at a loss, they called for help from MOD-SOUL; Urahara accepted and set his scientists to work, eager for a new challenge. As the days passed several other people were diagnosed with the same virus and quarantined in a section of the hospital. By the end of the first week ten people had the virus. By the end of the second week, 102 people were being housed in a wing of the hospital that was closed-off to the public.

It was chaos layered with fear. Every day, a few more people were put into quarantine and every hour, their symptoms got worse. When news of the death of one of the patients arrived at MOD-SOUL, a tense silence fell over the staff; that day, Urahara began to work non-stop, barely pausing for meals or sleep… and still the death count rose.

Eventually, another argument broke out between Urahara and Ryuuken. Their views on how to handle the situation were too different, too far on opposite sides of the spectrum. Continue using up resources to try and save them or stop and simply contain the situation, accepting that death was the only solution for those infected.

Save the dead or save the living.

In the end, despite MOD-SOUL's efforts, 318 people died from the virus which had mysteriously vanished on its own two months after its first appearance. One week later, Urahara Kisuke disappeared without a trace. Kurotsuchi Mayuri immediately took over the position of president, renaming the company to MOD. His first order of business: fire all former Quincy Corporation workers.

* * *

"Surely Urahara must have known what kind of person he was. He left us at the mercy of that man." Ryuuken's eyes narrowed at the memory. "As it turned out, Mayuri had no mercy."

* * *

The Quincy workers went back to their community on the edge of the city, unsure of what to do. Approximately 2900 people lived in their little town and the majority had spent their lives devoted to searching for cures. Quincy Co. was gone – given up when the merger had occurred – and it was as if their purpose in life had been ripped away. A few hundred people left the city, or even the country, searching for other careers with their talents.

They were the lucky ones.

One week after being removed from MOD, the first signs appeared among the community. Those long two months surrounded by the dying had ingrained the tell-tale symptoms into Ryuuken's mind. Only this time, the onset of each following stage seemed to come twice as fast – the virus had returned, quicker to spread and deadlier. Those who had seen the results of the first virus resigned themselves to their fate. It wasn't until Ryuuken's wife passed away that he grew determined to find a cure for him and his son, Uryuu, no matter what.

Feeling that he was running out of time, he turned to his last resort: go ask for aid from MOD. Like a miracle, Mayuri did in fact have a cure; however he was only willing to offer it for a costly price. Ryuuken felt his suspicions were confirmed – that the MOD president had been the one to release the virus in the first place – but paid the money anyway, selling possessions as necessary to reach the high price that had been set.

In the end, 2661 people died in that town. Other than those who had left before the virus struck, the only remaining survivors were Ryuuken and little Uryuu.

* * *

Ishida felt as if his world had come crashing down to bury him, to suffocate him. He was going to be sick. Staggering into the bathroom attached to his father's office, he bent over the toilet. Ryuuken watched him from the doorway impassively, gaze cool and blank.

"You were always weak, Uryuu."

Wiping his mouth, Ishida gripped the white porcelain before him, eyes shut tightly as if he was trying to force away a bout of vertigo. In a way, he supposed he was.

_I had been flying so high on a dream – a dream built on a lie. And now I have to fall and face reality._

"Weak and foolish. I was right to have left you – you were a waste of time, money and effort," Ryuuken continued, watching as his son shakily got to his feet.

"Stop. Just _stop_. I don't need to hear anymore. I'm leaving."

Without another word, Ishida left the office and the hospital, slowly making his way back to the hotel. By the time he arrived, he felt eerily calm and went about the suite, packing some things into a duffel bag. Zipping it closed, he set it down on a couch and sat down beside it.

It was strange to think that a man he had been conditioned to hate for as long as he could remember was the very one he had fallen in love with. So many times he had heard the story of a man who had disappeared, leaving them all vulnerable and as good as dead. He grew to hate that man who had made his life so difficult but now…

Ishida glanced up when the door clicked open and stared at the grinning blond as his heart twisted sharply, emotions churning in his stomach.

"Uryuu! How was…" Urahara trailed off as he took in the pained expression and packed bag. "What's wrong?"

"… I went to see my father."

The older man's face changed, lips pressing together as his eyes darkened. "… I see. What did he say?"

"He told me all about you," Ishida said softly, shifting his gaze to stare down at the carpeted floor. "You lied to me."

"I didn't know, Uryuu. Believe me. When I first met you, I didn't know who you were."

The young designer squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "I asked you on our very first date if MOD was your company. You told me 'no'."

"It's not my company. The only ones I've associated with were SOUL and MOD-SOUL."

"They're the same thing!"

"Okay, you're right. I was riding on a technicality but you have to believe that it wasn't just to trick you. I have never thought of MOD as my company," Urahara replied quietly, in an attempt to placate the boy. "When I did find out about what happened to your family, I meant to tell you but-"

"Wait," Ishida turned to stare at him cautiously. "How long have you known?"

There was no reply as Urahara lowered his gaze to the ground, hat shielding his eyes and expression.

"How long?"

"… four months."

"You knew for that long and you didn't tell me?" Ishida got to his feet, staring at the man incredulously. "I can't believe I had to hear all of this from my _father_, the man I haven't seen in over three years, instead of you, the person I trusted completely. He was right – you do manipulate people."

"Uryuu, I-"

"Don't call me that," he stated calmly, reaching over to pick up the bag's straps. "When I first met you, I was amazed to have found someone who would help a perfect stranger so freely, so selflessly. But now I know the truth – you're selfish. When you left your company you were selfish, not even thinking about the kind of consequences your absence would cause. Then you didn't tell me about this for who knows what reason – if you wanted to get me in bed, congratulations, it worked."

Ishida hefted the bag onto his shoulder and took a few steps forward, feeling oddly void of emotion as he stared at the man's face blanketed in shadows. He knew he should be feeling something – hurt, anger, sadness – yet there was nothing. The only sign that this affected him at all was the ache in his chest.

"If anything I said wasn't accurate, tell me." There was only silence as Ishida exhaled slowly, moving to brush past Urahara as he opened the door. "I thought so."

There was no attempt to stop him as he exited the suite or as he waited for the elevator. With a final glance at the man still frozen by the doorway, he closed his eyes and stepped forward as the chimes rang.

"I'll get the rest of my things later. Goodbye, Urahara-san."

* * *

Ishida wandered the lamp-lit streets aimlessly, the sun having set hours ago. It was getting late and he needed to find somewhere to go. He couldn't go back to the Kurosaki residence – that would probably be the first place Urahara would look for him and he didn't want to talk to him at the moment. Going to Ichigo and Rukia's apartment would probably be the same, not to mention being rather intrusive. His father – not even an option. In the end, Ishida could only think of one place to go.

He knocked on the door of the small apartment and waited. He had only been here a few times, when everyone had been invited over for dinner – no one ever ate much – or for some other occasion but never for a social call. Granted, Ishida was never a very social person to begin with. The door opened to reveal Orihime blinking at him curiously.

"Ishida-kun? What are you doing here so late?"

"I…" He simply shook his head, clenching the duffel bag straps. She glanced from the bag to his face before reaching out to pat him on the arm gently.

"Never mind, come on in. It's late."

Ishida felt he was fortunate that Orihime didn't ask any questions and simply led him over to her couch. Sitting him down, she returned with pillows and a blanket, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know what happened and you don't have to tell me." She tilted her head, a concerned expression on her face. "But if you want to talk, just let me know, okay? You're welcome to stay here."

He nodded slightly, murmuring a quiet thank you as she padded back to her room. His body felt tense and unsteady, yet still lacking the things he thought he should be feeling. Either way, there was no way he was going to get any sleep. Rummaging in his bag, he pulled out his sketchbook and a pencil – usually sketching things managed to calm him down enough to sleep. Ishida flipped through the pages, perusing some of his old sketches, before freezing as his eyes rested upon the most recent drawing. The one done by Urahara.

Suddenly, it was as if whatever wall had been holding back his emotions crumbled to dust. Tears welled up and flowed over as silent sobs shook his body, the book dropping to the floor as he curled in on himself. Ishida clutched his arms tightly; the pain in his chest was so strong that he feared it would rip right open. It was nearly dawn when he finally collapsed to sleep from exhaustion.

What had broken his detached demeanour was not only the drawing itself but the hastily written message that accompanied it. In Urahara's familiar scrawl were the simple words, '_I love you_'.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Inoue-san, do you know where Ishida-san is?"

"E-Eh?!" Orihime started, and then stared at Rukia nervously, fidgeting a little at the top of the stairs. It was the beginning of a new workday and the tiny designer was frowning at the empty desk.

"It's odd – he's always here before anyone else."

"Ah, Ishida-kun… Ishida-kun's not feeling very well so he decided not to come in today."

Rukia glanced at the orange-haired girl quizzically. "How do you know that?"

"… huh? Oh!" Orihime laughed uneasily, rubbing the back of her head. "He called me this morning!"

"Why didn't he call the studio? Or me?"

A bright smile froze on the girl's face as she mentally scrambled to come up with an answer. "A-ah… Ishida-kun didn't want to disturb you at home, Kuchiki-san, and uh, he thought it would just be easier to call me."

"Ohh, I get it." A slow grin spread across Rukia's face. "He's too 'busy' with Urahara-san and didn't want to tell me. Okay, the next time he calls you, inform him that he doesn't have to hide from me – I won't bug him… much."

"Er…" Orihime watched as she wandered off to check on one of her dresses and sighed. She was bad at lying but at least Rukia didn't seem to suspect anything close to the truth.

She had woken up to find Ishida curled up on her couch, staring blankly at the wall with red, puffy eyes. After some gentle questioning, she had learned that he had only slept for an hour or two. Exhausted and miserable, he was in no shape to go to work and had told her as much, requesting that she not say anything about his current situation. Orihime had promised that she wouldn't, even though she still had no idea what had actually happened. After a failed attempt at getting him to eat breakfast – wasabi pancakes with peanut butter and eggs – she had given him a comforting hug and left for the studio.

Seeing Ishida in such a state worried her and she was determined to find out what had gone wrong with Urahara when she went home. But that was hours away and at the moment, she had to go pin some fabric into place.

* * *

Isshin set the last dish on the drying rack before turning to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of sake. Yuzu and Karin had gone off to a friend's house for a sleepover, tumbling out the door into the mother's van. He had reluctantly let them go after a good portion of wailing from him and a kick to the face from Karin. Just in case they got homesick, Isshin had shoved in life-size posters of him and their mother into their bags – when they weren't looking of course.

Relaxing onto the couch, Isshin gazed up at the large image of Masaki hanging on the wall. With a grin he lifted the bottle in a toast before taking a sip, releasing a long, contented sigh as the alcohol burned down his throat. Ichigo had moved out with a year left of college and the two girls only had two years left of high school – Isshin felt it was something worth celebrating.

"It's a shame you're not around to see them, Masaki," he said quietly, a smile on his lips. "You would have been so proud."

The sound of tires screeching to a halt broke his silent reminiscence and Isshin got to his feet. He peered outside and blinked at the blood-red convertible that was parked at an angle in the driveway. The car door opened noisily as a figure fell gracelessly out of it and onto the ground.

Isshin frowned as he stepped out of the house, finally recognizing a familiar hat. "Kisuke?"

"Isshin!" Urahara climbed to his feet, swaying a little in the night air. Stumbling over to the man, he pat him on the cheek a few times. "How _are_ you?"

"I'm fine, but you smell like you took a bath in alcohol. What happened?" The doctor paused to glance at the car then back at the drunken man before him. "And how in the world did you drive here without getting yourself killed?"

"I'm ta-len-ted!"

"Come on, let's get you inside."

Swiping the bottle of sake Isshin had set down on the coffee table, Urahara walked unsteadily over to the kitchen and practically collapsed into a chair. When he started to drain the bottle, Isshin frowned once again.

"Kisuke, what happened?" he repeated.

There was a break in his drinking as grey eyes squinted up at him. "Uryuu didn't come around here, did he?"

"No, I haven't seen him."

"Yeah... I thought so." The empty bottle landed with a loud, hollow noise on the table and began to roll in a lazy circle before stopping against the head that blocked its path. "Of course he wouldn't be here…"

Isshin stared down at the man who was now sleeping – or unconscious – on his kitchen table and sighed, scratching his head a little. For Urahara to go and drink himself into such a mess meant that it was probably serious; from what he could gather, it was obvious something had gone wrong with Ishida. So what to do?

He could attempt to wake him up and ask what had happened yet again, but that would most likely be unsuccessful. What Isshin needed was someone who could get Urahara's attention, someone very determined and who knew the secretive man well. There was only one person he could think of and if he wasn't mistaken, Urahara was still in contact with her. Eyeing the small weight that swung gently in the drunken man's jacket pocket, Isshin pulled out the cell phone and searched through the address book.

_Ah, just as I thought._

Pressing the dial button, he waited patiently for the other end to pick up.

"Hello there, Yoruichi-san! I'm not sure if you remember me but I used to be Kisuke's roommate back in college. Kurosaki Isshin. I have a bit of a problem with our hat-wearing friend here…"

* * *

"Ishida-kun, I'm back! I brought some groceries for dinner – what do you think of chocolate-covered beef with green onions in yogurt…?" Orihime trailed off as she glanced up from the bags to see Ishida sitting motionless on the couch, staring down at his sketchbook.

She shuffled over to him and peered over his shoulder at the delicate graphite lines that looped and crossed. Her eyes flickered to his face – it was blank again, showing no sign of his earlier anguish – before shifting back to the drawing upon seeing a slight movement. Ishida slowly stroked the three words scrawled on the corner of the page with a finger. It seemed he had been doing so for a while from the faded and slightly smudged letters.

"Ishida-kun…"

He stopped, fingers curling away from the words into a fist, and let out an almost inaudible sigh.

"… why do I still care, Inoue-san? Why is it so hard to just forget about him and move on?"

"Well, it has been only one day!" she remarked cheerfully, in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere that filled her living room. After a silent moment, she sighed and set down the grocery bags, moving to sit down on the couch beside him. "You really loved each other – we could all see it. Of course it's hard to forget. I hope you don't mind me asking what happened?"

"He lied to me. I trusted him and he lied to me and…" The quiet murmurings grew louder, filled with more emotion as his forehead creased. "Why does it hurt so much when I think of never seeing him again? I should hate him!" Ishida cried out, resting his forehead against the palms of his hands. "But I don't hate him. I don't know if I even care about what he did or didn't do – I do hate that I had to hear everything from my father."

Orihime frowned and rested a comforting hand on a hunched shoulder. "Hear about what?"

Ishida's back stiffened, his entire body tense as he replied with a faintly sharp undertone, "It's nothing… just a lot of complications from my childhood that you and the others don't really need to know about." He lifted his head and sat back, trailing fingers across the sketched drawing again. "What should I do?"

A moment of silence settled over the pair as they considered the situation, Orihime gazing down at the sketchbook thoughtfully.

"Here's my advice, Ishida-kun. I think you still love him – it's hard to fall out of love once you find someone you really care about. I don't think whatever Urahara-san did was to purposefully hurt you either. You have to ask yourself if all of this really matters, if you're willing to give up this relationship because of it." She glanced over at him. "If not, are you willing to forgive him?"

After another silent moment, Ishida sighed and shook his head helplessly. "…I don't know."

* * *

"Where is he?"

Isshin led Yoruichi into the kitchen and watched as she slammed her briefcase down on the table beside the sleeping man's head. After hearing about the sort of condition their mutual friend was in, she had immediately left her office where she was putting in a few extra hours of work. The last time Urahara had gotten this drunk, he had almost driven off the side of a bridge.

"Kisuke, wake up," she snapped, propping a hand on her hip. "I know how you get when you're drunk so I know you can still talk."

A muffled sound issued from the head pressed against the table as it rolled over. Urahara blinked blearily at the face glaring down at him before breaking out into a lazy grin.

"Why, _hello_, Yoruichi-san!"

"It's about Ishida, isn't it?"

He appeared to sober up immediately, turning back over to stare at the empty bottle before him. "Hm, so you know what happened, don't you?"

"I can take a guess."

"Are you going to say, 'I _told _you so'?" A hand reached out to shove the sake bottle roughly off the table, the shatter of glass filling the room. "Go on, I _deserve _it. I deserve all of this… ah, sorry, Isshin."

"It's fine," the doctor replied, stepping over the pieces to find the dustpan.

Yoruichi sighed, slumping down into the chair beside Urahara. "No, I'm not going to say, 'I told you so'. You should know that above all, as your friend, I want you to be happy. Surely there must be some way to fix this?"

"Not unless you can go back and prevent me from leaving 15 years ago," he muttered, climbing to his feet and nearly tripping over the chair. "He left, he's upset, and I _don't_ think he's coming _back_. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go _home_."

"Like hell you're driving."

"Then _stop me_!"

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, a faint smirk touching her lips. "Very well, you leave me no choice. Isshin?"

A fist flew out and connected with a stubbled chin, sending Urahara to the floor with a noise of surprise; his hat flew off and slid to a stop a short distance away. He lay there for a moment before slowly sitting up, blinking at Isshin thoughtfully.

"It's been a while since you've had to do that."

"Well, Kisuke, it has been a while since college," Isshin remarked, grinning with a slightly apologetic look on his face.

"You're quite unreasonable when you're drunk too. This was my last resort to get you to think properly." Yoruichi picked up the hat and held it out to him. "Hopefully it worked."

Dusting the hat off, Urahara placed it back on his head with a quiet sigh. "Whether I'm thinking reasonably or not, that still doesn't change the fact that Uryuu probably never wants to see me again."

"What makes you think that?" she asked, crouching down before him, her head tilted slightly.

"Oh, come now, Yoruichi-san. You really think he's willing to speak to me after having to hear everything from his father? He believes I am completely selfish for abandoning the company and leaving his family at the hands of Mayuri-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Did you tell him why you left? Yes, it may have been selfish but at the same time it was your right to leave." The silence that greeted her caused Yoruichi to inhale slowly in frustration before swatting the blond on the shoulder. "I cannot understand how you can be so _stupid_ sometimes."

Standing up and plucking her briefcase off the table, she stormed towards the front door. "You had better get me a present – you're lucky to have a friend like me to help you out of the messes you make."

As the door slammed closed, Isshin stepped up beside Urahara with a grin and held out another bottle of sake. "Drink?"

The man looked up at him and laughed.

* * *

It wasn't until late the next afternoon that Yoruichi managed to track down Ishida. She had her own things to do, of course, and when she made her way to the Hell Moth studio, the one person who knew of his whereabouts had stepped out to buy more pins. So she sat at the designer's empty desk and waited while Rukia paced before her with a worried expression.

"Why didn't Ishida-san tell me what was wrong?" Rukia snapped. "That bastard Urahara… _Ichigo_!" The orange-haired boy jumped a little in his seat by the window and scrambled to keep his textbook from falling to the ground. "Why didn't he say anything to me about this?!"

"I think you just answered your own question, Rukia. Calm down."

"Kuchiki-san, they only had the small boxes left so I bought four. I hope that's okay?"

"Inoue-san!"

"Eh?" Orihime glanced up from the bag she had been peering into and blinked at the outburst. "Is something wrong? I can go return them if you want…"

Rukia shook her head as she pulled the girl over to where Yoruichi sat. "No, no. This is Shihouin Yoruichi, a friend of Urahara-san's – she wants to talk to Ishida-san. You know where he is, don't you?"

"Oh…"

"Please, I really do need to speak with him," Yoruichi said. "He needs to hear Kisuke's side of the story."

"He didn't want to talk to anyone," Orihime's fingers twisted together as she frowned slightly, "but I think he needs to talk to Urahara-san too. Ishida-kun's been staying at my apartment – I'll take you there."

Rukia ushered them out, stating that leaving work an hour early would not cause the destruction of the world, despite Orihime's protests. When the two arrived at the apartment, Ishida was attempting to cook something edible for himself.

"You're back early, Inoue-san. Is it okay if I-" He fell silent as he turned around and noticed the tall figure standing behind her.

"Ishida-kun… Yoruichi-san wanted to talk with you."

Stepping aside, Orihime retreated to her room to leave the two alone. She hoped Ishida wasn't mad at her.

"How are you, Ishida?" Yoruichi asked gently, setting her briefcase down on the floor.

"What does he want?"

She frowned slightly and walked towards the kitchen counter; he stood there clenching the edge tightly with fingers white from the pressure. Leaning forward, she rested her arms on the cool surface and gave him a hard stare.

"To be frank, _he _doesn't want anything other than to drink himself into a pit of guilt and blame himself for everything; _I _came here to tell you that you ought to give him a chance to at least explain himself."

"Why should I?" Ishida asked angrily. "He had_ four months_ to do that."

"I'm not saying he wasn't an idiot for doing that, I just think you should hear from both sides before making a judgement. I can't tell you why he left because it's not my place to do it, but it wasn't a completely brainless decision nor did he know of Mayuri's plans. If you want to know more, you'll have to go meet him yourself and at least talk things through."

Ishida's grip on the counter had loosened and his shoulders sagged as she stopped speaking. Straightening, Yoruichi stepped around to touch him on the arm lightly.

"Listen, I'm not saying all of this just because I'm Kisuke's friend. The two of you were happy together – why should something from the past ruin that?" Turning back to the door, she picked up her briefcase and glanced at him once more. "I hope you decide to speak with him, Ishida; he does love you."

After Yoruichi left, Ishida picked up his sketchbook and flipped to the drawing he had stared at for hours on end. The text on the corner was terribly smudged and the lines had faded slightly, for he had had started to trace them as well. Trailing his fingers a final time over the grey lines, he closed the book and placed it back in the duffel bag.

* * *

A week later, Ishida stepped into the familiar penthouse, gripping something in his hands. The suite was empty except for the nearly empty bottles of alcohol lined up on the dining room table. He walked up to it and gently placed the object down.

It was the key for his studio.

Ishida had found it at the bottom of his bag yesterday and figured that he must have stuffed it in there without knowing that night he left. He must have stared at it for more than an hour, silently debating and considering everything Yoruichi had said as well as his own feelings. He had tried to make a decision many times before but always failed – the key seemed to bring everything into perspective, making him finally able to decide.

His eyes widened at the sound of the door and he spun around to see Urahara, who stared back at him in surprise.

The distance between them felt like miles, the air heavy with unspoken words as they gazed at each other. It had only been a little more than a week of separation, yet it felt like years.

"Uryuu."

* * *

A/N: Yay, finally. Only to leave you all with a sort of cliffhanger - sorry. XD Good news: my beta is still in business for me. Bad news (or good news, considering I tend to write more): school. We'll see how it all works out.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Uryuu."

The name was out before Urahara could stop it, before he could remember that Ishida had told him not to call him by his first name anymore. It had just become such a natural thing for him to say it; but now…

After Yoruichi had left that night at the Kurosaki residence, he and Isshin had settled down on the couch with a new bottle of sake, passing it back and forth.

"Do you think he'll forgive you?"

Urahara had glanced at him before reaching over to grab the sake. "… I don't know."

"You've changed since college," Isshin had noted, taking the bottle offered back to him. "Less optimistic, more cautious."

"College was a long time ago."

"Still."

The two had eyed each other coolly, refusing to budge, until Urahara had looked away to let out a quiet sigh.

"Let's just say, I've seen things that made me change my attitude."

"Related to this problem with Ishida-san?"

"More like the basis to the entire situation."

Isshin had made a thoughtful noise, tipping the warm liquid into his mouth. "Not everything's your fault, Kisuke." At the lack of response, he had continued. "You can't control everything and you can't save everyone either. Sometimes things happen and you just have to accept that there is nothing you can do to change them, no matter how much you wish you could."

His eyes had flickered to the poster of Masaki; she had died in a car accident 12 years ago.

"You can't win at everything, Kisuke."

"This coming from the man who has lost every single drinking contest against me."

"Hoho, another example of your failing genius!" Isshin had announced with a smirk. "Do you really think I didn't notice how you cheated every time? I let you win because you were the one who usually brought all the alcohol – and who would pass up free drinks?"

The next afternoon (or early evening, to be exact), Urahara had woken up with a headache that had threatened to split his skull apart. The pain that would have resulted from his initial guilt binge had probably been amplified by the full-blown drinking contest with Isshin afterwards. Crawling to the bathroom, he had discovered that wanting to empty his stomach, even when there was nothing in it to begin with, was not and would never be a fun experience; especially when it had felt like knives were lancing through his head. Forcing himself back to the couch, he had attempted to sleep off the hangover and awoke late the next evening to see Isshin holding out a glass of water with a triumphant grin.

When he had finally returned to the penthouse, he had stood with his back against the door, marveling at how empty the place had felt. It was silly, wasn't it? Almost all of Ishida's things were still in the suite and yet it had seemed so bare. Urahara had supposed that it was due to the knowledge that the boy might never come back.

… But he had come back. For what reason, he didn't know nor did it matter as they stood there watching each other. It was almost frightening how much of an affect Ishida had on him and he hadn't been scared of anything for quite some time.

The silence stretched on between them until it was finally broken when Ishida lowered his gaze to the floor. "Urahara-san, I've come to return the studio key."

Urahara almost flinched at being called "Urahara-san" but nothing was revealed as he calmly replied, "No, it's yours."

"I don't think it would be proper for me to keep it. I would… feel uncomfortable."

"You're lying," Urahara remarked as he turned to shut the door behind him, causing Ishida to glance up at him sharply. "You want to keep it and I want you to have it. You leave that key here and I'll just hand it over to Kuchiki-san who would probably be more than happy to give it back to you."

"I find it a little ironic to have _you _accusing _me _of lying."

The older man appeared to deflate a little, shoulders sagging and eyes descending into shadow. Ishida's brow softened and he took a tentative step forward from the dining room table, hands clasped before him.

"Yoruichi-san came to speak with me, as you probably know," he said, pausing to take a deep breath. "I've decided to listen to what you have to say before… before I make any decisions."

Urahara looked up with mixed emotions fleeting across his face: relief that Ishida would listen, worry that it wouldn't change anything, and so many others too difficult to read. He made his way to the couch and sat down heavily, taking a deep breath.

"Where should I start?"

"I hear the beginning's always good," Ishida replied softly, leaning against one of the dining room chairs.

Urahara smiled faintly. "Well, in that case…"

* * *

Urahara Kisuke lost both of his parents to illness in his early teens – this and his naturally curious nature were probably what encouraged him to choose his later career. Still classified as a minor, he moved in with his new legal guardians and old friends, the Shihouin family. The fairly wealthy family encouraged and supported his education, congratulating him when he was accepted to university at only fifteen years of age.

In his second year, he met Kurosaki Isshin; their friendship was instantaneous. Yoruichi, who he had known since she was born, joined them the year after. Urahara was, to put it simply, a genius. He absorbed information easily, rarely taking the time to study because it just wasn't necessary (instead, he spent that time at parties with Isshin). By the age of twenty, he received both his Bachelor of Medical Laboratory Science and Doctor of Medicine and wished Isshin the best of luck before leaving the university.

Using funds left by his parents and scholarships from the school, Urahara set to work at creating his own laboratory, SOUL, hiring new graduates with similar goals and ambitions as his own. The research, the creation of vaccines and sending them out to be tested – he loved every aspect of his work. SOUL's name began to frequent the newspapers and the medical magazines with several interviews from the man behind it all.

Urahara's fame continued to grow.

* * *

"I was young and foolish," Urahara mused, turning to stare out the patio doors at the rain beginning to patter against the glass. "All of those people praising me and my work – it went to my head."

"What do you mean?" Ishida asked, curiosity lighting his face.

He glanced over at the boy with a slightly regretful expression. "Amidst it all, I forgot why I had started the company in the first place."

"And why did you?"

"I wanted to save people."

* * *

The day came when a young man named Ishida Ryuuken approached the increasingly famous scientist to extend an offer. Urahara accepted almost immediately, excited to have found someone who could possibly be an equal to his genius. The company's name changed to MOD-SOUL and Ryuuken conceded the role of president to Urahara. Over the following weeks, Quincy Corporation's workers were introduced to SOUL's staff and allowed time to adjust to their new surroundings.

The months passed and something akin to friendship grew between the two scientists. Ryuuken could indeed keep up with the bridges Urahara rapidly built from one thought to another, sometimes even surprising the president by jumping ahead of him. At times they were on the edge of a breakthrough and worked late into the night, long after all the others had gone home. The company flourished from their dedication, gaining even more prestige when many of their test vaccines returned positive results.

Then Kurotsuchi Mayuri applied to MOD-SOUL for a position, straight out of university, two years after the merger.

He was an obviously intelligent young man with impressive qualifications who was eager to start working, but there was often a strange glint in his eyes. Urahara brushed it off as nothing more than an avid curiosity and desire to join the laboratory. He observed Mayuri carefully over the next few weeks before coming to a decision.

Urahara had been considering appointing someone as vice-president for quite a while. What he couldn't decide was who it would be. The obvious candidate was Ryuuken but something always tugged on his conscience whenever he considered giving the role to him. In the end, Mayuri received the position and the day after the announcement Ryuuken showed up at the president's office.

"How could you do this?" he had demanded, staring at the man from the doorway.

"Do what?" the man had replied brightly, seemingly oblivious.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Urahara had eyed him silently before sighing. "I'm not going to change my decision."

"And I want to know why."

"Why?" MOD-SOUL's president had stood up to step around the desk. "He's a perfect candidate: degrees in both medicine and business and a new mind for fresh ideas."

"Why not me? I helped start this company and I deserve that position more than some new graduate – do years of experience even _matter _to you?" Ryuuken had asked, eyes flashing angrily from behind his glasses.

"I stand by my decision," Urahara had stated firmly before softening his tone. "You'll just have to trust me when I say this is not meant as an attempt to cheat you and that… your family will be thankful in the end."

"Thankful?" the pale-haired man had scoffed, turning to leave. "I see no reason to trust you _now_."

* * *

"Wait," Ishida cut in, confusion and curiosity lining his features. He had taken to sitting on the dining room table, legs dangling back and forth. "What did you mean by that?"

"Ah…" Urahara smiled faintly, a trace of wistfulness touching his eyes. "You see, I had been planning to appoint your father as vice-president when I discovered how talented he was but one day he mentioned his family in passing; a wife and a little boy less than two years old."

The dark-haired boy glanced at him sharply, mouth parted slightly.

"I considered what the role of vice-president might do to affect your family. Ryuuken would have been much busier and would rarely have had the time to travel back to your town. To put it simply, I wasn't happy with the thought that his son would be lacking a father figure in his life."

"So… you didn't give him the position for me?"

Urahara tilted his head with a thoughtful expression. "Well, technically yes. At the time, it was for the little boy who needed a father, not specifically for the Ishida Uryuu I would end up meeting twenty years later. I was lucky enough to have Yoruichi-san's parents treat me like their child after the passing of my own and I acknowledged the fact that having parents is important." He smiled again at Ishida who only stared back at him, speechless. "If you had two perfectly capable parents, why should you only see one?"

* * *

Ryuuken avoided working with Urahara at every cost after that, isolating himself in his office or surrounding himself with other people when examining the bacterial cultures. Mayuri, on the other hand, took full advantage of this by shadowing Urahara's every move. He seemed to want to surpass the cheerful scientist, working late almost every night, but was never successful. Every idea he formed had always been already thought up, hours or even days before. Mayuri grew frustrated and much like Ryuuken, began to withdraw himself to work on solitary projects.

It appeared that Urahara either knew nothing of these changes in attitude or if he did, simply ignored them. The truth was neither. He certainly did know but was simply too busy to stop and do something about it. When he wasn't experimenting in the lab, he was out attending conventions or galas, revelling in the attention from the media.

Shihouin Yoruichi joined the staff soon after Mayuri as the company's financial planner/advisor and, as a lesser known fact, Urahara's personal lawyer. With years of rather unorganized financial records, she was kept busy at sorting them out and diverting funds to areas that required them.

Two years later, that fateful day arrived when the hospital contacted them in regards to a patient with a strange illness. MOD-SOUL sent a few workers over to take down observations and get some blood samples – nothing particularly rushed. Urahara was intrigued by the thought of a new virus but still frequented the medical dinners in lieu of remaining at the laboratories to do some of his own research; he felt it was something that could be handled easily.

The scientists grew worried when nine more people were admitted with identical symptoms after the first week. They began to panic when an entire wing of the hospital was filled with over a hundred patients the next week. Very few workers left the laboratories to go home and rest, staying there instead in the hopes of finding something that could contain the situation. The patients' symptoms worsened and the majority became bedridden, too exhausted and weak to even sit up. When a phone-call arrived from the hospital early one afternoon, the room fell silent as Urahara relayed the message to them all: the first person who contracted the illness had died, only one month after being diagnosed with the strange, new virus.

It was a race against time now; they had a general idea for the duration of the sickness and had approximately that much time to try and cure the remaining patients.

Urahara appeared to be severely affected by the news from the hospital. He dropped all public appearances to devote his time solely to helping the others work, ignoring most meals and sleep; still, the patients grew worse and the death tally grew larger.

In the early hours of the morning, six weeks after the first infection, Ryuuken made his way towards one of the laboratories – it was empty except for one man with messy blond hair scrutinizing a slide.

"Urahara."

"What, Ishida-san?" he had asked tiredly, sitting back from the microscope. Papers covered with writing had been piled all around him and on the floor. He had gone with so little rest for so long that dark bags had formed under his eyes, mimicking the shadows that had normally been cast by his hat which had sat discarded on the tabletop. He had started to wear it a month ago when Yoruichi had remarked that his eyes were easy to read.

"This has to stop."

"Yes, I know. That's what-"

"No," Ryuuken had said firmly. "This pathetic hope of finding a cure – it has to stop."

Urahara had frowned at him, gently sliding the microscope away as he had stood up. "What exactly are you proposing?"

"We are wasting valuable resources and time. Instead of doing this we should just contain the situation and hope it stops spreading."

"You want to just let them all _die_?"

"They're going to die anyway," Ryuuken had replied angrily. "What good does it do to try and save those who are as good as dead?"

"Because dead or alive in the end, they're still alive right _now_!" Urahara had burst out.

"Be reasonable, Urahara! We have tried our best and it's not good enough. Tell me, have you managed to find anything that we haven't already seen?" When the man had fallen silent, Ryuuken had exhaled slowly. "This is a hopeless cause – the most we can do is try and prevent this thing from killing more people."

"… I don't agree."

"What?"

"I'm not going to give up on them. Accepting that first patient made them my responsibility which I admit, I didn't take seriously at first," Urahara had glanced back at the slides scattered across the tabletop with a frown, "but I plan on doing all that is possible to fix that mistake, even if it ends up killing me. I will not accept death as their final option while they still breathe."

Shaking his head as he had left, Ryuuken had muttered, "Foolish…"

In spite of everyone's efforts, all of the patients who had been diagnosed with the unknown virus ended up dying. Strangely enough, the influx of infected persons abruptly stopped two months after the initial outbreak; any trace of the virus vanished with the last patient, leaving only weeks of frantic research behind. Blood samples taken during the ordeal mysteriously disappeared and the inquiry issued on the matter was called off after only five days.

The media, who had been keeping a fairly reasonable distance, swarmed over MOD-SOUL and Urahara. He handled all of the interviews calmly and continued his work as usual for the week following the death of the last patient.

Then he disappeared.

* * *

Ishida hovered by the couch where Urahara sat with his head propped up by his hands. At one point during the older man's recollections, he had unconsciously moved closer from his seat on the dining room table and now debated whether or not to join him.

"Just sit down, Ishida-san. I won't do anything."

The dark-haired boy sat but not because of Urahara's reassurance. It was simply the tone of his voice – it sounded so tired, so worn, so unlike his usual cheerful nature when making a statement like that. He couldn't help but feel a little concerned.

"And so we arrive at the point which started this whole mess."

Ishida nodded, staring down at his hands clasped together on his lap. "Why did you leave?"

"The simplest answer I can offer is that I couldn't take it," Urahara replied softly. "I started that business to help people and somewhere along the way, due to fame or fortune or my own idiocy, I lost that goal. When I finally found it again, it was because people were sick and dying; _real _people with families and lives of their own were all depending on me. Only I wasn't there to help at the beginning – I thought they wouldn't need me – and to this day I still blame myself for that. If I had been there, would those people still have died? Perhaps, perhaps not."

"You can't save everyone, Urahara-san."

He smiled faintly. "You know, Isshin said that to me the other day. I thought I could save everyone back then. When that last patient died, it was like the final illustration of my failure. I dealt with the media as best as I could but their repeated accusations and speculations were too much." Urahara paused for a moment with a thoughtful expression. "Only Yoruichi-san knows what happened the night before I left – her and perhaps the tow-truck driver."

Ishida frowned as he looked up at him, echoing, "Tow-truck?"

"I had perhaps one too many drinks in an attempt to drown my guilt and took Benihime for a spin. The next thing I knew, she was more than a little scratched and I was teetering off the edge of a bridge." Ishida gaped at him but he continued on. "Lucky for me, Yoruichi-san had decided to call me out of concern and I told her about my rather uncomfortable situation. It wasn't a busy road which is why no one ever heard about that incident. It also makes it a bit more understandable as to why she refuses to allow me alcohol most of the time."

"You nearly _killed _yourself!" the young designer exclaimed. "How could you be so-"

"Stupid? Yes, it was a stupid thing to do but it also made me realize that I couldn't work at MOD-SOUL any more if it was going to affect me that way. After a long discussion with Yoruichi-san, I decided to leave." Urahara fell silent for a moment in thought. "You called me selfish that day – I agree with you. In the end, I made the decision solely for my own sake. I just hope you understand that I knew nothing of Mayuri's future plans; if I had known, I wouldn't have left."

"I do understand now," Ishida replied quietly. "I only wish you had told me when you first found out. More than anything, it hurt to know you would hide things from me. I grew up trusting very few people… and I trusted no one as much as I trusted you."

Urahara gazed at him before slowly sliding off the couch to kneel in front of him. Removing his hat, he bowed forward to rest his forehead against Ishida's knees.

"I'm sorry, Uryuu. You have no idea how sorry. I didn't tell you because I was afraid I would lose you."

The dark-haired boy sat unmoving, staring down at the man kneeling before him, the blond head resting against his legs.

"Forgive me…"

Ishida slowly bent forward and lifted his arms to rest in a gentle embrace around Urahara's head, pressing his cheek against the soft hair.

"There's nothing to forgive… Kisuke."

* * *

A/N: That was way too long of a wait since the last chapter - sorry about that. XD I'll do my best to get another update up before the end of October because I'm probably going to put the AU on hold when I attempt NaNoWriMo again this year. Hopefully I manage to do that. :D

Thank you to those who reviewed! I really do love reading any comments you have. :)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

The sound of feet pounding on the stairs caused Ishida to glance up from his desk to see who it was. Rukia arrived at the top of the stairwell, flushed and looking like she wanted to race over and tackle him; instead she appeared to reconsider and slowly strode forward, an eerily cheerful smile on her face. Her hand reached out and slapped something onto the desk.

"How was I not told about this, hm?"

He stared at her blankly – and a little frightened – until she withdrew her hand, revealing the studio key. The dark-haired boy turned to glance sharply at the man sitting by the window, narrowing his eyes accusingly. Urahara merely grinned with a shrug.

"I did say I would hand it over to her, didn't I?"

"But that-!" Ishida released a sigh of frustration and reached out to pick up the key. He had forgotten about it after that night he and Urahara had spoken. "It slipped my mind and I left it on the table – you didn't really think I meant to give it back after all that, did you?"

"Of course not," he replied, calmly flipping a page of the magazine on his lap. "But that wasn't what I said, now was it? I remember specifically saying that if you left that key there, I would hand it over to Kuchiki-san, which I did. And I was right, wasn't I? She brought it right back to you!"

Ishida grimaced in annoyance and tucked the key into a pocket. "I still don't see why you had to give it to her. You know how she reacts about these kinds of things."

"That's exactly why I gave it to her."

"But of all people…"

"Ahem," Rukia cut in, an eyebrow raised in amusement, "I'm _right here_."

"Ah! I-I, er, that's not…" he sputtered desperately, eyes wide in panic.

The tiny designer simply laughed and pat him on the shoulder. "Calm down, Ishida-san. I'm not offended at all. But," a mischievous grin stretched her face as she gazed at him, "I'm not letting you get off completely free for that remark."

"… what?" Ishida asked in a tiny voice, visibly shrinking down in his seat.

"Well, whether you had said it or not wouldn't have made a difference about tomorrow's events but since you did, all the more reason that you can't back out of it. I'm getting some newspaper reporters in here to interview you about your future studio! Oh, that reminds me – I need to call them to confirm a time."

The dark-haired boy started to sputter incoherently again and could only watch as Rukia sauntered off.

"B-but…"

"Why so worried?" Urahara's voice drifted over to him with a trace of amusement; he could hear the man get to his feet and cross the room towards him. "It's only a few reporters."

"Perhaps I should define what 'a few' means when it comes to Kuchiki-san," Ishida said. "The last time she told us she was going to bring _some _samples of fabric in for our opinions, we were here for five hours sorting through nearly a hundred different swatches by my guess. If I'm lucky, she'll only have invited half of the twelve magazine and newspaper distributors in the city."

"Ah, I see your point." Urahara leaned over to lay a reassuring arm across his chest, chin resting atop the black head of hair. "Well, don't worry! I'll be here with you."

Ishida smiled faintly. He cherished this feeling of comfort and for the past few days had wondered what it would have been like to lose it forever. A week was more than enough – apparently for the both of them. Urahara had accompanied him to work that day just to help along the delicate process of reforming their broken bonds; they had started the night Ishida forgave him.

After the older man had recounted his past, they had spent hours discussing things. Ishida had learned that Urahara had simply travelled for his fifteen years of absence; he had often stayed in small villages or towns, offering his medical expertise to those who needed it and sometimes learning other natural methods of treatment. It had relaxed him, taking away the heavy burden he had put upon himself, piece by piece, until he had felt that he could return to the city where it had all happened.

But Urahara had learned that running away was only a temporary reprieve.

Eventually the pair had lapsed into silence, simply sitting beside each other as if trying to make up for the time that had been lost. Ishida had cradled a rough-fingered hand in his lap, lightly tracing his fingers over the creases. A quiet, tentative question had ended up breaking the peace.

"So what happens now?"

Grey eyes that had flickered questioningly to Ishida's face had forced him to try and sort out his tangled thoughts into words.

"There's so much connecting us now and not all of it's positive. Should I move? Should I stay here? If I stayed, would it even work? I do forgive you, but is that enough?" His forehead had creased. "Do we simply move on from this whole ordeal? Do we just forget it ever happened?"

Ishida had stopped when the hand in his lap had curled tightly around his fingers. He had glanced up to see Urahara staring at him intently.

"No, not forget," the man had said softly. "Never forget."

To forget is a hard thing to do but to remember is effortless when it involves matters of the heart. If they had both simply promised to forget all of the revelations and move on, they would have been building their new relationship on promises guaranteed to be broken – on lies.

To forget would be to deny any chance of finding out whether their relationship could withstand the consequences, whether this was something they could both grow and learn from… whether it was all worth it.

Urahara had already learned that trying to forget something so significant didn't end well; he wasn't about to make that mistake again.

After staring at the fingers wrapped around his for a silent moment, Ishida had nodded in agreement. They would remember. They would try to fix things. They weren't going to give up.

Their relationship was shaky at the moment but stable enough and growing stronger.

All Ishida had to do now was hope he would survive tomorrow's ordeal.

* * *

The sun was already setting – dreary clouds of rain grew darker by the minute. The lights of the city lit up the streets and after a few hours, car headlights from workers returning home filled the roads. All except those employed at MOD.

"What news do you have for me this week?"

Nemu's eyes skimmed the list on her clipboard quickly. "Two have been removed to basement levels one and two," she said. "Seven have been hired today and spent it in orientation. Three eventually agreed to comply to MOD's regulations; four had to be sedated and should be recovering within the hour."

"Good," Mayuri's mouth stretched into a frightening smile, "I'll meet with them at that time."

"I'll notify you when they regain consciousness, Kurotsuchi-sama."

The president of MOD nodded but from the way his eyes settled sharply on her, it was clear that his mind had already focused on another topic.

"And what of your assignment, Nemu?"

Nemu gazed at him calmly. He rarely called her by her name – he must have been getting impatient.

"There has been no change. It is confirmed that Urahara Kisuke is in the city but his whereabouts are still unknown. We have been able to track down restaurants he frequents through reservations but recently there has been no activity for unspecified reasons."

Mayuri stood and stepped briskly over to her, raising an arm to backhand her sharply. The hand was brought forward several times more to slap her again and again. She staggered slightly with a hand to her face but remained silent; after all, she was used to it.

"Useless girl," he spat. "He must have noticed your investigations. If Urahara Kisuke wishes to remain hidden, he is perfectly capable of doing so – you just need to be able to think ahead of him. That or hope he makes a mistake, which is far too rare of a phenomenon," Mayuri muttered, turning back around to return to his desk. "On the other hand, the times he has made a mistake, they were severe ones."

His daughter breathed slowly, carefully prodding her cheek with slender fingers before lowering her hand back to her side. It would be red and probably needed an icepack but that would have to wait until she was dismissed.

"I just have to wait for him to slip up somehow. Until then, keep watching for any indication of where he is and what he's doing."

"Yes, Kurotsuchi-sama."

Mayuri didn't even watch her leave, opting to return to his paperwork instead. His pen wrote what was needed but his thoughts were somewhere else.

It was entirely too frustrating. Nearly six months since the first rumours of Urahara's return and he knew little more than he did that day. There were fleeting glimpses here and there of his presence – conversations, old reservations, purchases – but nothing reliable enough to trace back directly to the man.

He would simply have to be patient.

_You're going to be careless at some point, Urahara. And when you are, I'll be there to take advantage of it._

* * *

The small crowd of people chattered to each other as they waited in the Hell Moth studio. Photographers snapped random pictures of their surroundings while others holding pads of paper scribbled notes. Orihime weaved around them with a tray, offering home-made drinks. The first few had accepted gratefully only to make strained smiles at her after taking a sip; the rest opted to politely decline after witnessing this.

Rukia made her way into the room followed by a rather nervous looking Ishida.

_I can do this. This isn't hard. Just tell them about the studio and my work and that's it, right?_ He paused to eye the people who had turned to watch their entrance. _… right?_

"Welcome, everyone!" Rukia announced cheerfully. "I tried to invite all of the media companies today but it seems I could only contact eight of you."

Ishida almost choked and tried to cover it up by clearing his throat. _She tried to get all of them?!_

The small, dark-haired designer continued on, ignoring Ishida's moment of shock.

"I asked you all here because there's a wonderful article waiting to be written! My assistant and talented colleague here, Ishida Uryuu, currently has his own studio in the process of being built."

The interviewers murmured and moved towards Ishida, causing him to inhale sharply before slowly releasing the breath in an attempt to relax.

"Ishida-san, when do you plan to open your studio?"

"A-ah, I believe it's supposed to be complete sometime in February…" he murmured, trying to remember how long Urahara had said the renovations would take.

"When did you decide to leave Hell Moth and form your own label?"

"I… I don't-"

"What do you plan on calling your label?"

"I…"

"That," Urahara said, stepping forward through the group to rest an arm around Ishida's shoulders, "is a secret and will not be revealed until the opening day."

When the cameras flashed in their direction, he smiled politely at them. "I ask that you not publish any photos of me, thank you very much. Just for my own personal privacy, as I'm sure you understand."

"Who are you?"

"No one of importance but as I am the one who gifted the building to Ishida-san and the one who is overseeing the renovations, perhaps it would be better to direct some of your questions to me," he replied easily.

Ishida glanced up at him with a grateful smile and Urahara sent him a quick grin in response.

"Now, shall I help you all write a marvellous article?"

* * *

The basement levels of MOD were almost always in complete darkness; only the hallways and the rooms with experiments in progress were dimly lit. The elevators in the building travelled no further than the first basement level. The stairs were the only way to get to the lower floors; after all, it wouldn't do to have unwelcome visitors accidentally ending up on one of them. All of the walls were sound-proof creating an unsettling atmosphere on the way through each level.

There was no way of knowing what was being done to the workers that were brought down here – no way to hear their screams.

In a large room on the fourth basement level, there was a medical waste incinerator. Waste products from the upper levels were collected and deposited into this room every week and burned away at the end of each month. An efficient vent system transferred any fumes produced from the burning to the outside.

The incinerator was not scheduled to be lit but that night flickering flames could be seen through the air vents of the contraption. Two lone figures stood before it; one held a newspaper clipping.

"... 'An avid supporter of Ishida Uryuu's wishes to remain anonymous but states that he was glad to purchase the building for him and has high hopes for his success. He remarks that it is always exciting to find promising new talent.'"

Nemu watched as a slow grin stretched across Mayuri's face, his fingers tightening on the article causing the paper to crumple at the edges. In her hands she held several other articles from multiple media distributors. The one she had given directly to Mayuri was the only one with a valuable photograph – in the top left corner was an unforgettable hat-wearing man.

"Urahara Kisuke," Mayuri breathed. "I've found you."

He almost laughed as he twisted the paper between his hands, balling it up and stepping towards the incinerator. The lid was opened with a hook and heat blazed outward into the room. Holding the wad of paper over the opening, the shadows playing across his face made it appear more sinister – then again, perhaps it wasn't due to the shadows at all.

"My dear Urahara Kisuke. You've slipped up and made a major mistake just as I predicted." The ball was dropped into the flames and turned to ash. "A little surprising to hear that family name after so long but in no way am I complaining."

This time, he did laugh.

"You've made it far too easy for me." Turning towards Nemu, Mayuri smiled and for once, she actually shuddered. "Locate Ishida Uryuu and arrange a meeting. I'm very intrigued to meet a survivor of one of my first projects."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait. Hopefully you like the chapter. :)


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 

It was early morning at MOD and Yoruichi sat in the waiting area outside the president's office. She was uncomfortable for more reasons than just the deceivingly comfy-looking chairs.

She had arrived at her own office only moments before Nemu had quietly tapped at her door.

"Shihouin-san, Kurotsuchi-sama requests your presence upstairs," she had noted softly, her face emotionless as she looked at her.

Yoruichi had never liked being called 'Shihouin-san', making it a point among her fellow coworkers to just call her 'Yoruichi-san'. If she could help it, she avoided telling anyone her last name to begin with. She just never liked the formality. On one hand, she was a little irked that Nemu still referred to her as that; on the other, she had always felt some sympathy towards the young girl – most people knew her father often abused her.

She had been waiting for the president to summon her ever since Urahara had arrived back in town so many months ago. It had surprised her a little that it had taken so long and it had also bothered her. It was only natural that Mayuri would want to know about the former president's whereabouts and who better to ask than one of his most trusted friends? Yoruichi had known that he was aware of their close relationship – after all, she and Mayuri had both joined the company at around the same time. But why such a long delay?

Something was going on and it made her nervous.

Nemu appeared in the president's doorway as a sign that she should enter and after an impatient sigh, Yoruichi schooled her features into a mask and strode calmly inside.

"Shihouin-san, have a seat," Mayuri said, his fingers clasped under his chin.

"No, thank you," Yoruichi replied, eyeing the man behind the desk. "I'd rather stand. Can we get this over with quickly? I have work to do."

Mayuri's lips curled into an eerie smile. "Of course. Now, you must know why you're here."

"I do and I don't see why you expect to get any information out of me – you're just wasting your time."

"Let's just go through the formalities anyway, shall we? Where is Urahara Kisuke staying?"

"I don't know. Is that all?" Yoruichi asked, crossing her arms over her chest at Mayuri's smirk.

"Just one more thing." His eyes focused sharply on her face. "What is Ishida Uryuu's connection to Urahara?"

Yoruichi's eyes widened slightly but she made herself reply smoothly, "Nothing. Never heard of him. May I go back to work now?"

"Certainly." Mayuri's smile grew larger as the door closed behind her. A small reaction, but more than enough to confirm his suspicions. Ishida was indeed someone important and it was time to make use of him.

He glanced over at his daughter standing by the doorway. "Nemu, have you located Ishida Uryuu's place of residence?"

"Yes, Kurotsuchi-sama."

"Good. Deliver an invitation immediately and tell him to bring Urahara Kisuke with him." Nemu gave a short bow in response and he watched her exit the room before sitting back in his chair.

Mayuri always knew there had been a reason to keep Yoruichi around and now she had proved to be highly useful. He had considered firing her along with all of the former Quincy workers upon attaining his position as president but decided against it. For one thing, she was an efficient and reliable worker. For another, she had her connection with Urahara. If the man ever decided to return to the city, she would most likely be the first person to learn of it. He knew Yoruichi was lying about not knowing of his whereabouts but that didn't matter – like she had stated, it would be a waste of time to try and pry it out of her. Instead, she had helped verify a better source of information… and a better bargaining chip.

* * *

Yoruichi wanted nothing more than to pull out her cell phone and call Urahara, tell him that Mayuri knew something, tell him to be careful. But not when she was still in the building – she didn't trust it. The saying that the walls had ears was more than accurate in MOD.

She waited until her lunch break when she could leave the building and made her way to a small corner café. After an automated voice informed her that the customer was not available, Yoruichi made a face at the phone then tried again.

_Idiot. Didn't even turn on his voice mail._

She poked at a salad while dialing over and over. Urahara never left his phone anywhere – he would have to answer it eventually.

Sometimes she asked herself why she was still at MOD if it only caused her problems like this; then she remembered that that was her main reason for staying. Sure, the pay was good but she cared more about the safety of her friends. After the way Urahara had just left the company, it was only expected that Mayuri would be on edge if he ever returned. Yoruichi felt that it was her role to inform Urahara if Mayuri appeared to be a threat of any kind. For example, right now.

"Hello?"

Yoruichi blinked at the unexpected answer before remembering who she had called. "Kisuke! Where have you been? Look, I really think you should know that-"

"I'm sorry, Yoruichi-san, but I'm terribly busy at the moment. Ever since the articles came out about Uryuu, I've decided that I need to make sure his studio is completed on time."

"But-"

Urahara continued on. "So now I'm overseeing all matters personally and don't have much time for anything else. You can try calling back later if you like!"

"Kisuke-"

"It was lovely speaking to you but I'm afraid I need to go sort out a paint dilemma. Goodbye, Yoruichi-san!"

Yoruichi blinked again as the phone clicked into silence. Well, that didn't go at all like she had expected. She frowned as something Urahara had said drifted back into her mind.

_Articles? What articles?_ Scrolling through her contacts, she pressed the button to dial. _If I can't talk to one, I may as well try the other._

"Hell Moth Studio, how may I help you?" a cheerful voice answered.

"Is Ishida there?"

"Just one moment!"

Yoruichi tapped a finger slowly on the table as she waited. All that time spent trying to reach Urahara had eaten up most of her lunch break. She didn't have long to talk – it would have to be quick.

"Hello?" Ishida's voice drifted through the phone, sounding curious.

"Ah, Ishida. It's Yoruichi."

"Yoruichi-san, how are you? I hope everything is well."

The boy was always so polite; it was a wonder how he had ended up with Urahara. "Yes, I'm fine. I tried telling Kisuke about this but he was apparently too busy to talk and hung up on me. But first, what's this I hear about some articles on you?"

"Oh," Ishida replied. "That was Kuchiki-san's idea – she arranged an interview with various magazines and newspapers about my upcoming studio. Kisuke answered most of the questions though."

Yoruichi sighed a little. Well, that answered one thing; Urahara was a very hard person to mistake. "That's probably how he knows about you."

"Who?"

"Mayuri."

There was such a dead silence on the other end that she had a moment of wondering whether the call had been dropped. Instead, Yoruichi took it as her cue to say what was needed before her break was over.

"Ishida, listen to me. He knows you have some sort of connection to Kisuke and he might try to use you to get what he wants. You see, technically, Kisuke still owns part of the company – with that he also still has some claim over it. Mayuri has always suspected that he might try and reclaim MOD and with Kisuke back in the city, he's probably going to try and make him give up that entitlement."

"But Kisuke doesn't want it back, does he?" Ishida's voice was quiet and a little hopeful.

"I don't know," Yoruichi answered gently. "You'll have to ask him yourself. Just be careful, Ishida, all right? Mayuri may try and contact you, so look out for that."

"I'll be careful. Thank you, Yoruichi-san."

"You're welcome. I've got to get going so tell Kisuke about this when you get home. Take care, Ishida."

"I will. You too, Yoruichi-san."

Flipping the phone closed, Yoruichi sighed. She hoped her warning would be good enough to prevent any future disaster.

* * *

Ishida made his way home distractedly, stepping up to the front desk as a force of habit rather than actively thinking about it. His mind was still focused on what Yoruichi had told him and it worried him. The hotel manager smiled, moving forward to meet him.

"Ishida-san, how may I help you?"

"Are there any messages for me or Urahara-san?"

"As a matter of fact, a young lady came by earlier and dropped off an envelope for you." The manager sorted through some papers under the counter before handing one over to him. "Here we are. Is that all?"

Ishida reached out to take it, blinking curiously. It appeared to be a plain, white envelope except for 'Confidential' written neatly on the front. "Yes, thank you. Have a good evening."

He didn't open it until he reached the penthouse, dropping his bag beside his shoes and padding into the kitchen area. Urahara wasn't back yet; lately it was rare for him to return in time for dinner. Taking out a water bottle from the mini-fridge, he unfolded the flap of the envelope and drew out a single sheet of folded paper with a brief message on it.

_Kurotsuchi Mayuri of Medical Operations Department (MOD) requests a conference with Urahara Kisuke and his associate, Ishida Uryuu. Please call the number below to arrange a time and date._

_Sincerely,  
Kurotsuchi Nemu_

The plastic bottle dropped to the floor, rolling around in a lazy circle before coming to a stop against a chair leg. Ishida stared at the paper as Yoruichi's warning filled his mind again. She was right, Mayuri did contact him, but what now? It was easy to think and to say that he wouldn't go – until the opportunity actually presented itself.

This was the man who had killed virtually all of his known relatives and had nearly killed him and his father; the man who had caused Urahara to leave his company due to believing himself a failure; the man who had almost ruined both of their lives and who now appeared to be trying to do so again.

Ishida read the note once more as his heart pounded. No, not again. Never again. He wasn't going to let Mayuri tear away what little happiness they had after just beginning to fix what had been broken. He would protect it – protect Urahara. The man had done so much for him it was only right to do something in return. Surely any news of Mayuri would only worry him. And he didn't want anything to do with MOD anymore…

… didn't he?

The sound of a card sliding into the door slot startled Ishida out of his thoughts. Hastily stuffing the message back into the envelope he shoved the envelope into the mini-fridge and slammed the door shut. Urahara stepped inside and peered over at him curiously as he closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, uh…" Reaching down to snatch up the water bottle, Ishida smiled faintly. "Just getting some water!"

Raising an eyebrow, Urahara shrugged and turned to make his way to the bedroom. "Did you have a good day?"

"Yes – um, Kisuke," Ishida called out. The gaze that moved to focus on him caused him to continue softly, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Hm? What is it, Uryuu?"

"It's just… I've been wondering. Do you ever think of taking back your position at MOD?"

"MOD?" Urahara paused thoughtfully before his mouth spread into a small smile. "No, I don't think so; that stage of my life is over. Why do you ask?"

Ishida blanched and quickly threw together an answer. "Yoruichi-san called earlier – she told me that Mayuri was saying something about that."

_Half a truth isn't a lie, right?_

"Is that what she wanted to tell me? Well, I'm not surprised."

"You're not?"

"Of course not! Oh, I think it was sometime during the early years of my travelling. I got extremely drunk one night and somehow managed to send a letter to Mayuri," he said, tapping his chin idly. "I believe it said something along the lines of, 'I'M COMING TO TAKE MY COMPANY BACK FROM YOU P.S. You really should try this 1976 red wine... expensive but better than sex. No, wait, I lie.' And it was, if I remember correctly, on a heart-shaped piece of paper." Glancing up, Urahara laughed at Ishida's appalled expression. "I never said I was particularly eloquent when drunk."

Turning, the man made his way into the bedroom. A few minutes later, Ishida could hear the spray of water from the shower. Glancing at the fridge, he pulled it open and took out the envelope. The cold seemed to seep through his fingertips and creep up his arm like icy fingers clawing into his body. For a moment, he was tempted to find a match and burn it. But no, he needed it – he needed that phone number.

He was going to meet Mayuri and he was going _alone_. If he told Urahara, the man would probably refuse to let him go or even try to go with him like the invitation asked. But Urahara didn't want MOD so there was no reason for him to get involved; there was no reason for him to worry. Ishida _had _a reason to go. Yes, he would protect Urahara and face Mayuri to get him out of their lives.

* * *

Ishida called the next day at work when Rukia and Orihime had left the room to discuss a pattern. He was answered by a quiet, female voice introducing herself as Kurotsuchi Nemu.

"This is Ishida Uryuu. I'd like to set up a meeting," he said calmly.

Nemu worked quickly, arranging an appointment for the following day in the early afternoon. After reciting the lab's address she politely ended the call. Picking up the sheet of paper with the message, Ishida stepped over to the paper shredder and fed it through.

He slept little that night, curled up on his side, refusing the comforting arms offered to him. Over breakfast, Urahara's expression said nothing but his eyes looked at him in worry. Ishida merely shook his head and offered reassurances before heading off to change. When he emerged wearing a semi-formal suit, Urahara paused on his way out the door.

"Are you going somewhere, Uryuu?"

Ishida forced a small smile onto his face and recited the tale he had decided on to hide where he was really going. "Kuchiki-san arranged a meeting between another designer and I."

"Ah, no wonder you've been acting so nervous," Urahara said with a grin. "I'm sure it'll go fine. Do you need a ride?"

"Thank you, Kisuke. No, no, I'll just take a cab."

Ishida hated how much it hurt not to tell Urahara the truth, but it had to be done.

After waving goodbye and a short ride, he found himself staring at a large building with 'Medical Operations Department' printed on the glass doors. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside into a lobby heavy with silence.

His shoes sounded too loud as he stepped across the tiled floor, his suit too loud as the fabric rustled, his breath too loud as the familiar smell of a hospital surrounded him. A young woman stood up from her seat by a table with neatly arranged magazines and walked toward him, her heels echoing around them.

"Ishida Uryuu? I'm Kurotsuchi Nemu, please come with me."

He couldn't speak, could only stare and follow as she moved to the elevators on the other side of the room. His heart pounded and when the elevator doors opened, Ishida saw his slightly panicked eyes reflected in the mirrored walls. Blinking, he forced himself to calm down.

_There's no need to stress about this. You came here for a reason, remember?_ he thought sharply to himself.

He felt the floor rise beneath him and glanced over at Nemu. For a reason he couldn't specify, he felt pity for her; perhaps it was because she had a man like Mayuri for her father or just that she looked to have never had a moment of happiness in her life. The elevator dipped and stopped as the chime rang out and they stepped into what appeared to be another waiting area with plush couches arranged against the walls.

"This way, Ishida-san," Nemu said softly, gesturing towards the mahogany wood door that opened into an office: Mayuri's office.

Steeling himself, Ishida went inside to see a pale-haired man standing before a large window with his hands clasped behind his back. Turning around, Mayuri smiled. "My, your resemblance to your father is uncanny."

Ishida merely stared, cold eyes glinting behind his glasses. He didn't trust that smile at all.

"As you may have guessed, I am Kurotsuchi Mayuri, president of MOD and ah…" He appeared to notice something, eyes narrowing at Nemu who stood by the doorway. "Nemu. Where is Urahara Kisuke? Did I not tell you to bring them _both_?"

Before he could say anything or even blink, Ishida watched Nemu stagger against the wall, leaning on it for support. Her cheek was red and a little blood trailed from her mouth. "Forgive me… Kurotsuchi-sama…"

"What are you doing?!" Ishida cried out, staring in horrified disbelief as Mayuri struck her again, sending Nemu to the floor. "Stop! She did nothing wrong."

Mayuri turned around to face him, eyes blazing. "Then why is Urahara Kisuke _not here_?"

"Because I didn't tell him to come."

The president froze and considered Ishida, leaning forward in his examination. He suddenly sneered, stepping over Nemu to sit at his desk. "So it seems Urahara has acquired a protector. Do you even know of his past? Or just exactly how involved he was with the death of your relatives?"

"I know he had nothing to do with it," Ishida replied coolly. "I know that it was you who did it all."

He felt some pleasure push away the apprehension that coursed through his body when Mayuri showed a sign of surprise. It disappeared when the president's grin returned even larger.

"Oho, you must be someone rather special to him if he told you all of that! I think this meeting is turning out better than I expected it to."

"Kurotsuchi-san, I only came here for one reason."

"And what would that be?" Mayuri asked, sitting down.

"Even though there may be no accessible proof to accuse you of what you've done in the past or even what you're doing right now, I believe every word of it from Kisuke." Ishida ignored the glint that entered Mayuri's eyes at such a personal way of referring to Urahara. "I have every reason to despise you and nothing will change that. You've involved yourself in our lives long enough – leave us alone. Kisuke wants nothing more to do with MOD so you have no need to worry about him returning to take back the company."

"How do you know this?"

"He told me himself."

"And you believed him?" Mayuri said with a smirk. "Foolish Quincy child, he will never give up his claim on MOD."

"I have even less reason to believe you," Ishida replied coldly.

Mayuri let out a sharp laugh. "I suppose that's true. But I do know more about these things than you, boy. Remember that." He appeared to think for a moment before a grin stretched across his face once more. "Very well, I'll stay away from you. _Both _of you. It's entirely different if one of you comes to me though, agreed?"

Ishida said nothing, only glared. Turning in his chair, Mayuri glanced down at Nemu who crouched on the floor, cradling her cheek.

"Go get the car and escort Ishida-san back home, you useless girl."

"I'll be fine on my own," Ishida stated firmly, stepping over to the doorway. With a final cold stare between them, he didn't bother to say goodbye and walked towards the elevators. Nemu unfolded herself to follow him anyway, standing quietly beside him.

"Why do you put up with it?" he asked, frowning at her.

"He's my father."

"That's still no excuse."

"He adopted me. I'm grateful because I think I would have never survived otherwise," Nemu replied softly. "He gave me that chance so I decided to do anything I could to make him happy… even if it's impossible."

As the elevator reached the main lobby, Nemu informed him to go wait up front for her and disappeared down a hallway. Ishida shook his head a little but made his way towards the front doors. Suddenly, alarm bells rang and a door he hadn't noticed before flew open as a man scrambled through it. His expression was wild and desperate, clothes tattered and stained with blotches of maroon-brown. He spotted Ishida and flung himself towards him, hands clawing feebly at his arms.

"Help me… please…"

Two security guards appeared out of the same doorway and raced over to tear the man away. Ishida could only stare wide-eyed at him, completely speechless.

"It seems Yamamoto-san requires his medication."

Ishida's head snapped around to see Mayuri walking calmly towards them. With a small wave of his hand, the guards began to drag Yamamoto Kenji away as he started weeping.

"I apologize about that, Ishida-san." Mayuri smiled slowly. "Sometimes our treatments don't agree with certain patients. There's Nemu now," he remarked, gesturing at the black car idling by the sidewalk. "Have a nice day, Ishida-san."

Ishida could hear his blood pounding in his ears, feel it coursing through his body. He was shaken and probably pale but only narrowed his eyes in a cold glare at Mayuri, turning to exit the building.

As the president watched him leave, he didn't hide the dark, malicious grin that stretched across his face.

* * *

A/N: I forgot to thank the people that reviewed the past few chapters (and I never know if I should make use of that option to reply to reviews). I really do appreciate any comments you might have. :)

Edit: And just for clarification, since I've been getting a few comments asking about him on my LJ... Yamamoto Kenji is not related to Yamamoto-Genryuusai. XD He is just a minor OC and a link back to Ch. 6 (i.e., the guy who was dragged off to the basement levels). Ahaha, I should have chosen a different name. Ah well.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 

Ishida closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the wind buffet him slightly as he gripped the balcony railing. The sun had set an hour or so ago, marked by a drop in the temperature, but he didn't care. He didn't care that his skin felt like ice or that every breath of cold air burned its way into his lungs – he needed anything to distract him from the events that afternoon.

Especially the man who had appeared pleading for help so desperately.

It disturbed him more than anything he could remember. From the grin Mayuri had given him, he knew that the man was not naturally ill – and he was not ill by choice, either.

The entire ride back to the hotel he had clutched his hands together, oblivious to Nemu who had sat beside him. Ishida had finally snapped out it when they had arrived and politely told the young woman that he hoped she was okay, remembering how badly she had been hit. Nemu had blinked at him for a moment before nodding slightly. She had thanked him, said goodbye and then was gone.

The city lights were bright and cheerful as he opened his eyes to stare down at them. Strings of coloured bulbs decorated trees and buildings, signalling the Christmas season. Ishida considered this and remembered that Urahara's birthday would be soon after. He'd have to figure out what to do for presents soon – Christmas was only a week away and he'd been so busy that he hadn't thought about it.

While pondering potential gifts, Ishida heard the door open behind him.

"Uryuu, you're going to get sick."

Turning, he smiled half-heartedly at Urahara who had planted a hand atop his hat to keep it in place. Another gust of wind blew around them and the man made an exasperated expression before giving up and tossing the hat inside. Closing the door behind him, he stepped up to the railing beside Ishida.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Just thinking," Ishida replied. Even after telling himself that lying to Urahara had been done for a reason, it still bothered him. Roughly shoving away the guilt, he twisted back around to watch the cars travel through the streets.

Arms wrapped around him and his skin burned where heat pressed through fabric. "Thinking about what?"

"Nothing important." He paused and felt a real smile creep onto his face. "Except maybe what I'm going to give you for Christmas."

"Ah? Which is?"

"I'm not telling you!"

"You're so mean!" Urahara whined in a childish tone. Ishida could practically hear the pout that was sure to be on his face. He laughed a little and felt the arms slide away. The door clicked open and a hand was offered to him. "It's cold out; come back inside."

Taking the hand, Ishida let himself be pulled into the warm room. Perhaps things would be better now. Mayuri was gone and they didn't have to worry about him anymore.

* * *

"Merry Chriiistmas!" Isshin called out loudly as he threw open the door to the house.

It was Christmas Eve and Isshin had insisted that they all come over for dinner. Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime already waited inside as they had gone over that morning; Urahara and Ishida were the last to arrive. Yoruichi had also been invited but had gone home for Christmas with her family – Ishida couldn't help but feel a little relieved.

There was anxiety about another matter though, for Isshin was swaying in the doorway, a cup of eggnog clutched in his hand.

"Isshin, are you drunk already?" Urahara asked, his lips twitching into a smile.

"_Me_? Of _course_ not!" the doctor replied with a snort and started gesturing his empty hand wildly at them to enter. "Now come right in!"

Isshin led them into the living room and announced their presence at full volume. Ishida spotted Yuzu's head poking out of the kitchen with a frown and watched her rush over to snatch the eggnog out of her father's hand.

"You said you wouldn't touch that until after dinner!"

"But I'm the one that _made_ it!" he replied, his mouth twisting to mimic his daughter's. "Daddy's eggnog is the _best_!"

"It's also the only kind that contains 70 percent alcohol," Karin remarked from her spot on the couch.

Suddenly, there was a yelp and a cloud of white flour drifted out of the kitchen. Ichigo, who sat beside his little sister, snickered and leaned forward. "Oi, Rukia! How's that cake going?"

"_Shut up_!" was the only response as Yuzu hurried back into the kitchen to see what had happened. Isshin trailed after her since she still held his eggnog.

"Ah, Inoue-san! I don't think putting jam in the mashed potatoes is a good idea," Yuzu's voice called out. "And – step away from the eggnog, Dad!"

Ishida and Urahara sent each other a glance as the sudden chaos settled down into noises from the kitchen and the murmur of the television. Both breaking into a smile, they made their way into the living room.

"Merry Christmas, Kurosaki," Ishida said before abruptly turning his head to sneeze.

"Oh, yeah, Merry Christmas. What, are you sick?"

Urahara grinned smugly. "I do believe he caught the flu."

"I'm _fine_. I'm just a little… congested," Ishida noted sullenly. "Okay fine! Yes, you were right; I got sick."

The older man pat him on the head with a smile. "You see? Telling the truth isn't that bad."

A troubled look passed over Ishida's face but luckily no one seemed to notice.

Dinner ended up being a success despite the cooking troubles. The conversation around the table was cheerful and full of laughter as dishes were passed around. Orihime's potatoes were edible since they had been saved from a bath in jam. Rukia's cake also turned out remarkably well and she sent a triumphant smirk in Ichigo's direction. Isshin challenged Urahara to another drinking contest but he politely declined, saying he wanted to be able to drive home as well as not waking up with the desire to spend the rest of the day on the bathroom floor.

It was late by the time the dishes had been cleared and everyone felt settled. Isshin snored on the ground, having passed out from consuming nearly all of the eggnog by himself. After a few quiet goodbyes, Urahara and Ishida let themselves out and drove back to the hotel. Midnight had passed when they stepped into the suite and Urahara reached out to grab Ishida's hand gently.

"It's Christmas Day, Uryuu," he noted softly with a smile. "Do you want your present now?"

Ishida felt himself smile back. "If I get mine, then you should receive yours as well."

Going into the bedroom closet, he groped for the package hidden at the back. Holding it up to his chest, he shuffled out into the living room – he hadn't felt shy like this since the first few months with Urahara.

"It's not much but… I thought you might like it."

Accepting the package offered to him, Urahara slit open the tape and unwrapped the paper. A package of sketching pencils and a leather-bound sketchbook tumbled into his lap.

"I remember you said you liked drawing. And you're really quite good," Ishida murmured, twisting his hands together nervously. "I had your name embossed on the cover and those pencils are my favourite to work with."

"It's lovely! I don't think I've ever had my own sketchbook before."

"And… I hoped that you would have a lot of reasons to draw now."

Smiling, Urahara stood and said gently, "I'm sure I will."

His tone was so sincere that Ishida felt his heart twist. This wasn't right, not when he was lying to him.

Urahara leaned forward only to have Ishida back away slightly. At his confused frown, the boy sent him a slightly anxious, apologetic smile.

"I… I'm sick, remember? I'd hate it if you caught it from me."

"Ah, yes. But this should be fine," Urahara noted as he kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Uryuu." Reaching into his pocket, he removed a small box and held it out. "Now it's your turn."

Eyeing the box, Ishida glanced back up at him. "It's not another studio, is it?"

Urahara laughed a little and shook his head. Shrugging, Ishida reached out to take the box and opened it. He almost dropped it in shock. On a bed of cotton sat a delicate looking silver bracelet with a charm attached to it: a small silver cross. He recognized this bracelet. When he was very young, his grandfather had shown it to him, had promised to give it to him when he was older. Then the virus had spread and had torn all of that away.

"I never thought I would see this again," Ishida whispered. "Where did you get this?"

"The property of the town where your family used to live was put under the government's control after what happened. They auctioned off most of the possessions but a few were never sold and simply kept in storage until a later date. I was perusing the local auction lists when I came across that bracelet." Urahara paused with a small smile. "I thought you would like to have something that was a part of your town."

"It used to be my grandfather's…" Ishida said softly. "Kisuke, you have no idea how much – I mean, I feel like my gift isn't nearly enough…"

"No, don't say that. The fact that it means so much to you is more than enough."

When Urahara smiled at him then, Ishida felt his heart would break from the knowledge that he had lied to the man and still carried that lie.

* * *

Ishida fidgeted uneasily, fingers tangling in the bracelet on his wrist as he and Urahara sat in front of the flat screen television, watching the news report on the beginning of the New Year's celebrations. It was also Urahara's birthday.

He had tried to insist that they go out somewhere to celebrate with it being an important day and all but Urahara had refused, stating that he was perfectly happy to spend his birthday in the penthouse instead. On a gentler note, he had added that he didn't want him to get any sicker wandering around in the cold.

The sniffles that had shown up the week before had grown into what felt like a full-blown flu, leaving him aching and feeling rather miserable. Recently, Ishida had starting coughing – probably due to breathing through his mouth the entire night, courtesy of his stuffy nose.

On one hand, he had felt a little bad that Urahara's birthday would end up being so uneventful but grateful since if they had gone out, he probably wouldn't have been much fun anyway. On the other hand, beneath that regret and gratitude was a pit of guilt that had been eating away at his conscience and had grown drastically since Christmas.

Guilt that was on the verge of making him crack if he had to spend one more minute sitting beside the cheerful blond, acting like he wasn't hiding something important. And it was important, wasn't it? Meeting Urahara's former vice-president, the one who had practically ruined both of their lives with a simple virus, was something rather notable. Dinner was a welcome distraction for Ishida, letting him ignore the secret he'd been keeping for just a little longer. He had planned to tell Urahara everything that evening – a clean start to the new year – but he needed more time to sort out how he would explain things instead of having everything spill out in a rush.

Time was against him.

Ishida felt his throat begin to itch and coughed in reaction, attempting to get rid of the irritation.

"Uryuu? Is something wrong?"

Ishida almost flinched at the concern weaving through the voice. It was horrible. He was horrible. Blowing up at Urahara the month before for keeping secrets and now what was he doing?

"Um, what?"

Urahara leaned over to peer up at his face. "You don't look too good. Do you want to lie down?"

"I-maybe-I don't… no." The dark-haired boy abruptly stood up and began pacing, vaguely noting a feeling of vertigo but ignoring it. "Kisuke, I need… I need to tell you something because I want us to start the new year without secrets or lies."

"Oh, let me guess," Urahara forced a small grin in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere that was rapidly filling the room, "you've been sleeping with someone else? That's fine, they can join us!"

When Ishida only gave him a solemn look, the grin disappeared. No, this wasn't the time for jokes; this was something serious.

"What is it?"

"A few weeks ago, I told you I had to go meet a designer Rukia had introduced me to." Ishida shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn't look at him. He couldn't bear to see what kind of expression would settle onto Urahara's face. "That was a lie. That wasn't where I went."

When there was no response from Urahara, he took it as a cue to continue.

"I... I went to meet with Kurotsuchi Mayuri."

The silence was stifling, pressing down on him, threatening to bury him until he couldn't breathe.

"... I see."

It was like a moment of déjà vu. Ishida could remember speaking similar words, hearing the same response; only this time, he was the one to blame. This time he could only hope that Urahara wouldn't react like he had - hope he would have a chance to explain himself.

Urahara calmly got to his feet, walking quietly over to the remains of their dinner and picking up his half-empty glass of wine. He sipped it before setting it down, resting his hands against the table edge.

Opening his eyes as the silence stretched on, Ishida bit his lip at Urahara's stance – he looked as if he needed the table to remain standing. "I received an invitation to go meet with him. Please understand this was something I had to do. For myself."

"Why didn't you tell me?" The older man's tone was neutral, hiding whatever he might have been feeling. It was surreal, the change in voice nearly making him unrecognizable.

Ishida inhaled sharply and stumbled slightly backward against the arm of the couch. At that moment, he realized that he didn't know _this_ Urahara Kisuke. His eyes were completely hidden in shadow, his face was expressionless, his voice was emotionless – he never knew Urahara could be this distant, this _cold_. And it pained him to know that he was the cause.

"I didn't think you would let me go."

"I would have gone _with_ _you_."

Ishida gave him a helpless look. "That was the other reason why I didn't say anything."

"Why? Do you trust me so little now?"

"What are you talking about?" Ishida asked, confusion filling his face. "I trust you more than anyone."

"Ah, but do you really? I must say that ever since you supposedly forgave me, our relationship has been significantly different from before."

"But I asked you if we should just forget about it and you said-" He stopped and frowned. "Wait, 'supposedly' forgiving you? I did forgive you! You didn't believe me?"

"I'm not a fool, Uryuu," Urahara murmured, frozen in his position by the table. "You said the words but did you mean them? There's a world of a difference between those two things."

Anger flashed across Ishida's features as he took a firm step forward. "Of course I meant them!"

"Then why have you been so distant since that day? Why not even one kiss?" Frustration was overpowering the cool demeanor Urahara projected, the strain audible in his words. "And again, why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know!" Ishida burst out. His head was starting to pound, his senses were dulled from the illness, and his nerves were frayed. He wasn't prepared nearly enough for an argument; especially against Urahara. He would later blame these things for what he said next. "Besides, why should I have to tell you where I go all the time? I can take care of myself," he snapped.

"Really?"

"Yes – I was _fine_ before I met you. Before you, I didn't have to worry about the people I met with or worry about my own heart breaking. I'd have probably been better off without you."

Ishida's mouth pressed closed abruptly and his eyes widened in horror as the words replayed through his head.

_Wait, no… that's not what I meant._

Urahara's eyes slowly lifted to gaze at him calmly. "So that's how you really feel."

"No, Kisuke, wait, I didn't mean it…"

"Perhaps we shouldn't have bothered to fix this relationship the last time then."

"Kisuke, don't-" Ishida broke off into a fit of coughing, bending over from the force of them.

… _don't leave me. _

"Perhaps you're happier being on your own."

_No, I don't want to be alone._

"If there's one thing I want to know, it's why you went. Is it because you wanted to make sure Mayuri's past actions had been done without my knowledge? To make sure I wasn't lying to you again?"

"No!" Ishida gasped out, clutching at the front of his shirt. It was so hard to breathe.

"Then _why_?"

"Because I-" He started coughing again. His throat felt like it was being torn raw.

… _because I love you! I had to face the man who ruined both of our lives. I wanted to protect you for once._

Ishida felt his knees hit the soft carpet as his muscles strained against every cough. His chest hurt, his entire body hurt – what was going on? Why was it so hard to breathe?

"… Uryuu?" Urahara's voice drifted over to him through the haze of pain but he couldn't answer.

A tense silence settled over the pair as the coughing abruptly subsided with a sharp gasp for air. Ishida took away the hand he had been using to cover his mouth and stared at it, barely noticing when Urahara took a step closer.

Red. Bright red. Smears and beads of bright red a stark contrast against pale skin.

Just as quickly as the coughing had stopped it retuned with twice the force, sending Ishida tumbling onto his shoulder. Blood began to cover the carpet near his head with every cough, soaking into the threads like spilled wine. He felt Urahara drop to his side in the next instant, fingers fluttering over his throat, his chest, trying to find out what was wrong, damnit, what was wrong?

"Uryuu!"

Ishida could hear the three monotone beeps of a cell phone while an arm reached out to curl around him as if trying to forcefully stop the coughing.

"Yes, we need an ambulance. I have a 21-year old male displaying a severe case of haemoptysis. We're located at…"

Everything began to fade in and out of focus so much that he almost didn't realize that Urahara was now bracing him in his lap, the phone discarded to the side.

_Kisuke… I'm sorry._

"Uryuu! Stay with me, an ambulance is coming."

_I'm sorry…_

"Stay with me, Uryuu!"

It was dark, so dark.

_I love you… _

* * *

_ A/N:_ If I look at my schedule of updating on my LJ, I do believe this is the first time I've updated within a week since Ch. 8. lol And I'm sure it's only because I had the last five pages of this written for quite some time. So... don't expect the next one within a week. XD

Other than that, I'm sorry for the absolutely horrid cliffhanger but hopefully you'll stick around to find out what's going on. :) Thank you to the people who reviewed the last chapter - it definitely brightened my day to read them!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 

The steady beep of a machine slowly drifted into Ishida's consciousness. He lay still with his eyes shut, the unfamiliar feeling of a slow stream of oxygen being supplied through his nose. His chest still hurt, but he could breathe again. Opening his eyes slowly, he realized his glasses had been removed and that he couldn't see a thing except for dark, blurry shapes. The only light came from the small spaces between the window blinds: a warm, orange glow that probably meant the sun had just begun to rise.

Ishida turned his head and squinted at the blurry form to the right of his bed. "… Kisuke?"

He heard a rustle of fabric as the figure shifted and stood to move closer. "I'm here, Uryuu."

"I can't see you – are my glasses here?"

His voice was hoarse and Urahara must have noticed for after placing the glasses onto Ishida's face, he immediately raised the bed into a sitting position and held out a cup of water. "Drink."

Obeying, Ishida managed a few mouthfuls before starting to cough weakly. Urahara frowned and immediately reached out a hand to press gently against his chest, as if trying to steady him. "Do I need to call the nurse?"

"I'll be okay," Ishida croaked out and took a deep breath. "How did I get here?"

"I called an ambulance. The combination of blood loss and difficulty breathing sent you into an unconscious state. Luckily, the hospital is nearby so the paramedics didn't take very long. When they arrived you had started breathing fairly normally again but you've been out for over 24 hours." Urahara gazed down at him silently before offering a faint smile. "You worried me."

Ishida said nothing, laying a hand on top of the one on his chest and squeezing a little. The man looked exhausted and strained as if he had been awake ever since arriving here – Ishida didn't doubt that he probably had. It was hard to think of how to respond though, due to the argument from the evening before. It had seemed like the end for them yet Urahara was still here, still appearing to care. He didn't know if he should feel relieved or even guiltier than before.

Ishida opted to distract himself from deciding on that by asking something that had crept into his mind upon realizing he was in the hospital. "… does Ryuuken know I'm here?"

"He's the one overseeing your care," said Urahara. At Ishida's expression, he added, "He happened to be on duty the night you came in."

Ishida lowered his eyes to stare sullenly at the faded blue blankets. "I'm surprised he let you stay here with me."

"He knows I care for you."

"That doesn't matter to him!" he exclaimed scratchily, looking up at Urahara in disbelief. "If you don't remember, Ryuuken's the one who wanted me to leave you."

Urahara lifted his hand, letting Ishida's slide off to the side. "I do remember. But I think he was only trying to protect you."

"_Protect_ me? Why would he care about that after practically leaving me homeless three years ago?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons for doing so," Urahara murmured, reaching out to adjust the tubes looping over Ishida's ears.

Ishida pushed the hands away and glared. "Why do you keep trying to defend him?"

A quiet sigh issued from the man as he turned and opened the blinds, filling the room with a wash of pink and orange. "Uryuu, listen to me. I don't believe your father is a bad person. He has every right to hate me for what happened in the past – I can't deny that. I'm beginning to wonder if he was right in trying to break us apart since it's painfully clear to me that I'm not having a very positive effect on your life or your health."

"Don't you dare say that," said Ishida, leaning forward. "Don't you _dare_ imply that any of this is your fault."

Urahara turned to answer him but was interrupted by the door opening and the lights being switched on, sending bright white light into the corners of the room. Ryuuken walked inside with a chart in hand and eyed the pair coolly before stepping over to the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Ishida said coldly, ignoring the look his father gave him at his reply.

"He's still coughing but not nearly as much as before." Urahara didn't appear to notice Ishida's head turning back to glare at him, instead keeping his gaze on Ryuuken. "What do you suspect it is?"

"From the sound of his lungs when he was admitted, it appears to simply be a severe case of pneumonia. The blood tests won't be back until tomorrow but in the meantime he needs to get an X-ray of his chest," Ryuuken noted. "I'll have a nurse come by to take you to get that done."

Without another word, he turned and left. After patting Ishida on the hand, Urahara made his way around the bed and out the door. Ryuuken stood outside scribbling notes onto the chart. Lifting his eyes to the hat-wearing man, the pen was clicked closed and hooked onto a pocket before he looked away and started to leave.

"Ryuuken."

"I don't believe you have the right to refer to me as that."

Urahara lifted his hands in a placating gesture and nodded slightly. "You're right, I apologize. Ishida-san, I think we need to discuss some matters."

"There is nothing to discuss," Ryuuken replied. "What my son does or who he keeps company with are no longer my concern. He will be treated and when well enough, discharged. Those are the only matters I will bother to take interest in."

The doctor smoothly turned and continued on his way down the hall. Shaking his head slightly, Urahara opened the door and went back inside to sit with Ishida. A nurse arrived soon after to take Ishida to the X-ray room and the next day, Ryuuken entered the hospital room once again.

"The X-rays confirm that it's pneumonia – you'll be started on antibiotics immediately. The blood tests showed little of interest as your white blood cell count appeared normal." He glanced at Urahara. "Since you haven't shown any symptoms up to this point, I believe it's safe to say that you haven't contracted it from Uryuu. However, if you or anyone else who has had contact with him start to show any signs of a similar condition, they should visit a clinic."

And just as quickly as before, he had left. Urahara and Ishida were beginning to have an idea of how every meeting with Ryuuken would proceed.

* * *

"Ishida-san, you should have known better than to let your illness get so bad," Orihime chided. "It's always better to fix things right away!"

Ishida smiled at her. "I'm sorry for worrying you, Inoue-san. You too, Kuchiki-san, Kurosaki."

The trio had arrived at the hospital bearing flowers and get well cards the morning after he had started receiving treatment. Urahara had informed Yoruichi who in turn had visited the Hell Moth studio to let them all know.

Rukia was attempting to play nurse and fluffed his pillow, insisting that he tell her if he wanted any sort of refreshments; Ichigo slouched by the window, hands stuffed in pockets, peering out at the view they had from the fourth floor; and Orihime occupied the chair where Urahara had sat for the past few days, trying to arrange the flowers they had brought into a borrowed vase. Urahara had gone off to the cafeteria with Yoruichi for something to eat.

Ishida frowned a little as he traced a finger over the IV needle taped to his hand that led up to the bag dripping antibiotics. They hadn't talked about his meeting with Mayuri at all during his time in the hospital. He knew it was something that had to be cleared up but he supposed that for the moment, his health was more important to Urahara who showed no sign of picking up that discussion.

* * *

Yoruichi set down a bagel and a cup of coffee in front of Urahara before taking a seat across from him. Sipping her own drink, she watched him run a hand through unruly blond hair then set his hat back onto his head, covering the strained look in his eyes with shadows once more.

"How are you doing?" she asked, concern lacing through her words.

"I've been better," Urahara said tiredly. "Ryuuken says it's only pneumonia so Uryuu should be fine in a few days."

"Ryuuken? He's involved in this? Have you talked to him?"

He sent her a sardonic grin. "Well, this is practically his hospital and it _was _his son who came in unconscious after coughing up blood, Yoruichi-san." He paused. "And I tried but he refuses to speak with me."

Yoruichi's forehead creased slightly when Urahara started to idly rip the bagel into smaller pieces and she let out a quiet sigh.

"What's bothering you?" She met his eyes with a fierce glare, stopping the words in his throat. "And don't say it's just Ishida's illness. Since you know it'll be resolved, there's something else that you're occupied with."

"I can't hide anything from you, can I, Yoruichi-san?"

"I've known you since I was born, Kisuke. Give me more credit than that."

A real smile touched his lips but faded almost instantly. "It's Mayuri."

"Oh, that. I tried to inform you when I called before but you cut me off so I warned Ishida instead," said Yoruichi. "What do you make of him knowing about Ishida's connection to you?"

"What?" Urahara frowned at her, hands halting in their destruction. "How in the world do you know about that? I only found out a few days ago that Uryuu went and met with the man by himself."

"He _what_? But…" Trailing off, she put a hand to her forehead and slowly massaged her temples. "I should have known better than to trust that the message would have gotten to you. Kisuke, did you know that the two of you have a severe problem when it comes to communication? Not to mention following good advice."

"Yes, that's become rather clear the past few months," Urahara replied with a smirk.

Silently considering the situation, Yoruichi observed the dark gaze Urahara was giving the plate of mutilated bagel and sucked in her breath. "You think this is Mayuri's doing."

"I do."

"But it's only pneumonia," she said slowly, repeating his earlier statement.

"It is," Urahara agreed, "but I suspect this is only the beginning. I don't know what he has planned but I don't intend on letting any further harm come to Uryuu."

* * *

Ishida's condition improved over the next week but not enough to merit a discharge from Ryuuken, who refused to budge from a minimum of ten days' worth of treatment. Rukia and Orihime visited again, bringing a sketchbook for him to draw in as well as a new bundle of flowers. He thanked them but upon seeing the sketchbook was reminded of a Christmas present and in turn, something he had forgotten.

"Kuchiki-san, Inoue-san, could you do something for me?" he asked.

"Anything, just name it!" Rukia replied brightly, leaning forward expectantly.

"Uh, well," Ishida reached up a hand to rub the back of his neck, "back at the hotel, Kisuke's birthday present is still hidden in the bedroom closet – I never got a chance to give it to him. Do you mind bringing it here? I think my key card is in my jacket pocket."

Orihime patted the pockets of the coat draped over the back of a chair and produced the card with a smile. "No problem, Ishida-kun. Do you want us to be super secret like ninjas about getting it to you too?"

Ishida smiled back at her. "If you can, that would be appreciated," he said.

Urahara was often in the room with him but true to their word, the girls snuck in the next day during a moment when he had stepped out. It was difficult deciding what to do with the box and in the end they opted for hiding it in the bedside table drawer. Ishida wasn't sure when he'd actually give the present to Urahara – he'd have to be able to bring up the events of that evening first.

He wasn't able to make any progress on that though, for he started feeling nauseous the next day and ate little, if anything at all. Ryuuken merely noted that it was probably a side effect from the antibiotics and Urahara confirmed this in an attempt to reassure him. The day after had him vomiting up what he did manage to eat and dry heaving every few hours afterwards. At this point, Ryuuken started to pay more attention to his son's health, leaving Isshin in charge and ordering him to inform him of any changes.

One afternoon, Ishida began to vomit blood. Urahara had stepped out a few days earlier to take care of matters concerning the studio only to return to find that Ishida had been transferred to an isolated unit in intensive care. Denied clearance to enter the room, he demanded to meet with Ryuuken. Isshin advised him to be patient since the hospital director had agreed to speak with him later that evening.

Through the glass window, Urahara silently watched Ishida sleep fitfully, his breathing laboured and hands clutching the rumpled sheets.

"Kisuke, you can go up now," Isshin called out from the end of the hallway. He laid a hand on the man's shoulder as he passed by. "Don't worry, we'll find out what's wrong."

Urahara said nothing, only continued on towards the elevators. When it reached the eighth floor with a chime, he made his way down the hall and into Ryuuken's office, lifting his head to stare at the man with dark eyes underneath the brim of his hat.

"Why have you moved him?"

Ryuuken's eyes narrowed as stepped around his desk. A box of notes lay open on top of it, papers spilling out onto the dark brown wood. "Are you blind, Urahara?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Urahara replied lightly.

"He's past the flu symptoms, the nausea and vomiting blood. As we speak, he is well on his way into the stage with high fever. Do you not recognize any of this?"

"And you think that Mayuri's somehow brought back that virus again?" He continued to speak in a light tone, though now there was a barely audible strain behind it.

"I-" Ryuuken stopped and took a step closer. "You know something."

The fake smile that had been pasted onto Urahara's face disappeared. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "You're wrong."

"You already know why I've put him in quarantine."

"I refuse to believe it."

"Refusing it is not going to change anything and I will not have you endangering the lives of my staff and patients with your foolishness. What do you know?" Ryuuken demanded.

"… a few weeks before Uryuu was first admitted, he had gone and met with Mayuri. I know nothing of the circumstances of the meeting but I believe it is more than enough to hold suspicion against him." Urahara shook his head and said wonderingly, "How did he do it? How did he manage to delay the effects of the virus for so long if every other occurrence took less than a week?"

"That is the least of our problems, Urahara. You're lucky that it hasn't spread to you or anyone else so far."

Urahara's gaze drifted over to the open box on the desk, recognizing notes and numbers scribbled madly during the epidemic fifteen years ago. He knew what he had to do.

"It's a hopeless cause. I will not stoop so low as to request the treatment from Mayuri again. The most I can do is keep him in quarantine for the duration of the virus." Ryuuken had been staring out the window at the sliver of moon bright against the night sky but turned now to glare at Urahara again. "Are you even listening?"

"I'll find a cure."

"What? We have tried this before and _failed_. Just admit that there is nothing we can do for him now."

"We have been through this before, Ryuuken, and we know that our opinions and values are completely opposite. You'll have to do nothing; just let me use your laboratories," Urahara stated firmly. "This is your _son_."

"I know he's my son. I saved him once and if he's foolish enough to meet with Mayuri and get sick again, it's his own fault. I'm not going to waste any more resources on him."

"Let me use your laboratories," he said, repeating each word slowly.

The two men stared at each other in the heavy silence that followed. Eventually, Ryuuken turned towards his desk and picked up the box, roughly pushing it into the other man's hands.

"Do what you want but don't expect me to help you."

With a nod as thanks, Urahara took the box and left the office for the seventh floor research facilities. Dropping down into his chair, Ryuuken rested his forehead against a hand and released a deep sigh.

With the rate of Ishida's progression through the illness' symptoms, he would have three weeks at the most.

* * *

_A/N:_ Happy Valentine's Day? lol A not-so-happy chapter for this kind of day, but ah well. The plot's moving and I'm predicting 3 or 4 more chapters until we're done - it all depends. XD

Thank you for the reviews! I'm glad to know that people have gotten so attached to the characters. :)


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 

Urahara sat back with a large sigh, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. Notes lay scattered across the countertop, amongst pens and pencils. The box that sat at his feet had been all but emptied within the first few days of trying to find the information he needed.

It had already been a week since his conversation with Ryuuken. He had progressed nowhere.

The laboratory had been mostly empty when Urahara had entered that night, box of notes in his arms. The few researchers still there had merely blinked at him as he had settled down in an empty corner and started pulling out stacks of paper. He had barely noticed when the night had turned to day or when the people who had been there disappeared. No one joined him after that and Urahara had guessed that Ryuuken must have said something, perhaps telling his researchers to stay away from him. Whatever it was, he had kept to himself and had reviewed the notes for two days straight, finally taking a small break to mull over the information and give himself some rest.

The next morning, Urahara had gone to collect some blood samples from Ishida. He had been required to wear a full-body suit to enter the room, unless he had wanted to risk catching the virus himself. Ishida had stared at him blearily, face pale but covered in sweat, sticking strands of hair to it. Urahara had guessed that his fever had begun to break some time overnight and had reached out with a cloth to gently wipe away the perspiration.

"Kisuke…"

"Good morning, Uryuu," Urahara had said with a bright smile. "I'm here to collect some blood so I can run a few tests."

"You're going to fix me?" Ishida had asked wearily, holding out his arm obediently.

Tying the arm and swabbing an area clean, he had expertly inserted the needle and first plastic vial for collection. "Yes… I'm going to fix you."

But it was now days later and the tests showed the same results as the ones fifteen years ago… and he still didn't know what would stop the virus' progression.

Stretching out of his hunched position, Urahara frowned as his muscles complained. He wasn't as young as before; day after day of endless work wasn't as easy as it used to be. Eyeing the papers, he stood up and idly stacked them into a pile – not that it really mattered, since they'd end up strewn across the counter by the end of the day anyway.

Urahara paused to mentally run through the tests he had done and realized that he would need some new blood samples. For one, he didn't have enough and for another, Ishida's condition would have changed and may have resulted in something new appearing in his blood. Picking up his hat, he set it on his head and made his way towards the elevators.

The hospital was quiet on this floor in the early morning hours; the lower levels would be occupied with patients, doctors and nurses but this one held the laboratories and vast majority of medical imaging equipment. There were still a couple of hours before the first appointments of the day would arrive for their scans so, for the moment, the floor felt deserted. Urahara found that there were times when he liked it this way, being surrounded by research and technology, while other times he desired the company of some good friends. Only twice in his life had he not cared what his surroundings were like: fifteen years ago and right now.

Urahara hadn't expected Ishida to be awake when he stepped into the room, but when the doors slid open, a pair of blue eyes watched him enter. He was glad he didn't have to wake him.

"Hello, Kisuke," Ishida said, his lips lifting into a faint smile.

"Hello, Uryuu. How are you feeling?"

He shrugged slightly. "Fair. Better than I did earlier in the week when the fever finally broke."

"That's good," Urahara replied brightly. It was, but at the same time, it wasn't. All that meant was Ishida would have a few days of feeling almost normal before the true onslaught began. During the epidemic, this was what all the employees at MOD-SOUL had come to refer to as the calm before the storm. "I'm here to collect some more blood."

The smile on Ishida's lips vanished and his eyebrows furrowed into a light frown, his lips parting as he came to a realization. "… you don't know what's wrong with me."

Urahara froze on his way back to the bed after collecting the needle and vials. He had been dreading the moment that Ishida would realize something wasn't right.

"I just need a little more time," he said with a smile, reaching out to extend Ishida's arm. "It's nothing serious."

"Then why am I in an isolated room that requires everyone to wear a suit to come in and see me?" Ishida demanded, snatching back his arm with a glare.

"Uryuu… please," Urahara sighed. "Just cooperate with me. I promise you that I am doing whatever it takes to get you healthy again."

Staring at the man carefully, Ishida slowly held out his arm and allowed him to collect the blood samples. After placing a small bandage where the needle had been inserted, Urahara touched a gloved hand to his cheek, lingering for a moment, then exited the room.

He went back to the seventh floor, plastic vials in a sealed bag, and continued on down a hall to an isolated laboratory. Any tests involving highly infectious diseases had to be performed here, away from the other labs. Leaving his hat just outside the doorway, he stepped past the first set of doors to don another body-suit before entering the lab itself. Urahara laid the bag down and stopped, hands pressed against the countertop.

A week had passed with nothing and there were potentially only two weeks left. Was it really worth risking Ishida's life in the hopes that he would be able to find a cure _this_ time?

Sighing, Urahara knew it was time to go see Mayuri and find out what he wanted. But as he eyed the vials, he frowned. To simply leave them would be wasting time that could have been used to run tests and what if the meeting ended up useless? And the tests he had planned to do were not ones he could leave unsupervised. However, meeting Mayuri later would possibly waste time in getting the treatment to Ishida if whatever deal was offered could be agreed upon.

Meet Mayuri now or meet Mayuri later. Run the tests now or run the tests later.

Deliberating a moment longer, Urahara finally left the blood samples and proceeded on to remove the suit. The tests would have to wait.

* * *

Nostalgia washed over Urahara as he walked up to the front doors of MOD. The building looked almost like it had when he had left, only much bigger. On the other hand, the atmosphere when he stepped inside was nothing like it used to be.

He ignored the receptionist sitting at the lobby desk, heading straight for the elevators from memory. She blinked at him curiously, calling out a hesitant, "Excuse me, sir?" as the elevator chimed and he moved forward, turning to press the button for the top floor. He saw her pick up the phone before the mirrored doors closed, leaving him staring at his own reflection.

Urahara watched the number slowly light up floor by floor and idly adjusted his suit. His pants were hopelessly wrinkled but his jacket was still decent seeing as he had simply left it hanging by the laboratory door for the past week. Grey eyes flickering up as the elevator doors opened with a chime, he smoothly stepped off and towards the open doorway in his view. Urahara entered his old office without a sound and calmly observed Mayuri who stood with his back facing him, half bent over the desk with the phone pressed to his ear.

"Who did you see?" the MOD president demanded. "… are you stupid, girl? Was it him or not?"

"Hello, Mayuri-kun."

The man froze, his shoulders visibly tightening, before slowly putting the phone back in its cradle. He straightened and turned to look at Urahara, his lips twisting into a smirk.

"So, you've finally decided to come," Mayuri said. "I would have expected you sooner."

Urahara flashed him a bright grin. "Aw, did you miss me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, stepping around the desk to sit down. "Your sudden departure was the best thing that ever happened for this company."

"Such harsh words, Mayuri-kun! And all this time I thought you liked me."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Am I bothering you, _Mayuri-kun_?" Urahara said smoothly. The smile still curved his lips but his voice hinted at something darker – something much more dangerous.

Eyes narrowing at the tone, the president sniffed in disdain. "It's pathetic how much you let that Ishida boy affect you."

The playful attitude disappeared and Urahara stared at him silently for a long moment. "What did you do to him?"

Mayuri slowly smiled as he realized that the upper hand was his once again. "Oh, come now. Do you really expect me to believe that you haven't figured that out yet? Since he's already isolated and you haven't left the labs for days, I think you know what it is."

"Spying on me, Mayuri-kun? How touching." Urahara picked up a chair and shifted it closer to the desk before taking a seat. "Yes, I know what it is – three months surrounded by its symptoms tends to make it easier to remember. What I want to know is how you did it."

"Interesting. If the boy had told you the details of our meeting, you might have been able to figure it out; but considering he didn't even tell you about the invitation, I suppose he wouldn't have said anything. Such a trusting relationship you two have, Urahara," Mayuri sneered.

"Enough taunting, Mayuri. I'm risking valuable time by coming here and I intend on getting answers. How did you do it?"

"Very well." Mayuri sat back in his chair, fingers steepled before his face. "Ishida-san had a bout of pneumonia, didn't he? That was courtesy of one of my former employees."

"That still doesn't explain how you delayed the virus' effects," Urahara replied with a frown.

"You answered it yourself. It's a virus," he paused with an eerie smile, "and sometimes viruses don't quite disappear."

Urahara's mind raced to make the connection, pulling out information from Ishida's time in the hospital and past history to his own days as a student, before slamming into the answer.

The virus that had spread through the Quincy Corporation's community so many years ago had simply lain dormant after Ishida and Ryuuken had received treatment for it from Mayuri. It had been a cure, yes, in the sense that it had stopped the virus and let them recover; however, the treatment had only suppressed it, hiding it until something caused it to reveal itself.

In Ishida's case, getting infected with a case of pneumonia had dropped his immune system's defenses. When he had started receiving antibiotics for the pneumonia, it had been the final push to set off the virus again. Somehow, Mayuri had encoded its genetic make-up to react to specific types of antibiotics and that, combined with the lowered immune system, had been enough to leave Ishida vulnerable to its attacks again.

"I see…"

"Yes, of course you do," Mayuri said quietly, gaze intent on the man across from him. "You never required much effort to attain greatness; but now things have changed, haven't they? I've surpassed you and your knowledge and you need my help if you want that boy to survive."

Urahara lifted his eyes to stare back at him through the shadows from his hat. "Is that what this is all about? Is that why you created those viruses?" he asked. "You wanted to outdo me?"

The president blinked at him before letting out a sharp laugh. He stood and wandered over to the window that looked down on the city streets, busy with the morning traffic.

"You think that's why I did it? I'll admit that that was part of the reason – always in the spotlight, always praised for your research. No matter what I did, you were always five steps ahead of me," Mayuri bit out harshly before taking a deep breath. He turned to smile slowly at Urahara who watched him from across the room. "But that wasn't my main reason. I realized that if fame could turn someone so brilliant into someone so careless, I didn't want it. I found it intriguing how the human race could be so weak when faced with something as simple as attention; everyone pushing themselves so hard to gain that little bit of validation of their own self-worth."

His gaze drifted back out the window, unfocused as if he were remembering the events of so many years ago, and his lips curled into an eerie smile.

"So I wondered, why not test both? Test their resilience, give them their attention and see what happened."

"You didn't have to kill them all!" Urahara said, staring at him in bewilderment. "What sort of justification is there for killing hundreds of innocent people – thousands even, in the case of the Ishidas?"

"Justification? For science, of course! How would people react when hundreds became ill and died, the hospitals useless in helping them? What about thousands? And just how far would someone be willing to go in order to get treatment?"

Urahara could only shake his head in disbelief. "Research is no excuse for death."

"Or so you say," Mayuri said, eyes gleaming from his chance to finally reveal everything to the man he used to admire. "I'll admit to something else – the entire Ishida community wasn't supposed to die. I had wanted some to survive if only to be able to test the second part of my experiment. So you can imagine how pleased I was to discover that one of the two who had received treatment in the past was still alive; and not only that but he had connections with you and had decided to come walking right into my hands."

Urahara felt his frown deepen as he listened to the president speak. "What experiment, Mayuri?"

"You disappoint me, Urahara. It should be obvious enough – if it was possible for me to bring the virus back after it had been dormant for so long, of course. And it did work, so my experiment was a success. The only question now is…" he trailed off, waiting for Urahara to finish the sentence.

"… what do you want for the treatment?"

"There are two things I want, one of which I'm sure you already know about."

Urahara leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want all of MOD."

"Yes, though I wonder… are you really going to give up so easily?" Mayuri asked with a sneer.

"I want to know what this deal will entail, Mayuri. That doesn't mean I'm agreeing to it."

"So you might not agree? Then what – you'll let Ishida Uryuu suffer and die?"

"No – if I have to, I'll find the treatment myself," Urahara noted calmly.

"You think you can?"

Gaze falling away to the dark carpet, he appeared to think for a moment before carefully picking his words. "I'll do whatever it takes for him to survive."

"Then here are my conditions if you want the cure. One, you renounce any claim on MOD, effectively giving me full power." A slow smile stretched Mayuri's face as he watched Urahara lift his eyes to stare back at him. "And two…" His lips parted to show perfectly white teeth as he laughed darkly. "Well…"

* * *

Urahara removed his hat and let it fall to the countertop with a sigh. Reflecting back on the meeting with Mayuri, he shook his head. No; he couldn't agree to those conditions right now, not when there was still a chance for him to find the cure on his own… and if he was forced to accept them, he would need a written contract to ensure that both sides of the bargain would be upheld. He needed to talk to Yoruichi.

So caught up in his own thoughts, Urahara almost didn't notice the pile of results sitting beside his notes. Picking them up, his eyes scanned the data and his eyebrows drew together in confusion as he realized that these were the tests he had been planning to do after seeing Mayuri. Whoever had done them had certainly known what they were doing. Deciding not to question it, Urahara sat down and began to go through the results. If he ever found out who had done them, he would make sure to thank them… and he already had an idea about who it was.

However, now wasn't the time. He would talk to Ishida later but needed to see what he could find out from analyzing the new data first. Urahara was determined to not give Mayuri the satisfaction of getting what he wanted and to do that, he could only hope to find the cure.

* * *

_A/N:_ Mayuri's a crazy man. 8D

There is something about upcoming exams that makes me write. It's a cruel, cruel world. XD But it made me churn out this chapter surprisingly fast, so it's good for all of you people reading! If all goes according to plan, there are only 2 chapters left - and I just realized that I've officially gone over 50,000 words which is absolutely insane. I'm rather pleased. :D

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I always look forward to them whenever I post a chapter. :)


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Urahara sat and stared at the data before him, dark bags underlining his eyes and hands pressed flat against the countertop. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, displaying a time of seven o'clock. If there hadn't been a window to show the dark night sky, he might have been unsure as to which half of the day it was.

Another week had passed and despite constant research, aided by his mysterious helper who left him test results whenever he had to leave the labs for an extended period of time, there was still no progress. Time was running out – Ishida's latest blood tests revealed the beginnings of liver failure. Once that passed, there was only respiratory failure and heart failure and inevitably, death.

Closing his eyes, Urahara ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. As far as he could tell, he only had one option left.

_No, not yet_, he thought. _Not yet…_

Rising to his feet, he exited the lab, picking up his hat on the way out. He hadn't visited Ishida ever since he had returned from MOD. Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime had all come to visit earlier in the week, but had had to settle for waving at their friend through the glass, faces lined with worry. Ryuuken had refused to allow them entry for their own safety. Isshin had remained to keep watch on Ishida's condition, ordered to report any changes to Ryuuken and Urahara. He directed a small wave to Urahara from where he stood by the nurse's station as the hat-wearing man passed by.

After putting on the full-body gear, Urahara stepped into the room, his breath sounding loud within the confines of the suit. Ishida slowly opened his eyes to look at him, a faint smile touching his lips. He had experienced a severe decrease in muscle mass – another symptom of the virus – leaving him bedridden.

"Kisuke… you look tired."

Laughing softly, Urahara moved forward to the side of the bed and placed a hand on Ishida's head. "Don't worry about me – you're the one who's sick."

"Have you figured it out?" Ishida asked.

Urahara dropped his hand back to his side and shook his head slightly.

"But..." The expression on the man's face caused a frown to settle on Ishida's. "Kisuke, what is going on?"

"… Mayuri is behind all of this," Urahara replied, pulling over a chair. "Uryuu, that virus that spread through the Ishida community when you were young – the cure Ryuuken got for both of you wasn't really a cure. All it did was suppress the virus until you were vulnerable enough to have it triggered again."

"So, you're telling me that that's what I have right now," Ishida said. He inhaled slowly when Urahara nodded. "Then what's going to happen to me? Kisuke, everyone in my family_ died_. Is that-"

"Uryuu," Urahara said soothingly. "I swear I am not going to let you die. I've tried my best to find a cure on my own but I haven't had any luck, just like the last time there was an epidemic. But…" He paused to take a breath. "Mayuri has proposed a deal in return for the cure."

"What is it?"

"There are two parts. One is that I give up my claim on MOD."

"You'll do it, won't you?" Ishida asked, an uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach. Mayuri had doubted that Urahara would do such a thing, but Urahara had told him that he no longer wanted the company. Which one was true?

"I don't know."

"You don't know?!" He felt his chest began to ache at the outburst, but he ignored it. "I can't believe you actually have to question such a thing. This is my _life_, Kisuke."

"You think I don't understand that?" Urahara said angrily. Too many sleepless nights coupled with constant stress had made his temper short. "To give Mayuri full control of MOD would be a dangerous thing to do."

"He's had full control ever since you _left_," Ishida replied coldly.

Urahara moved away from the bed to pace back and forth, his lips pressed together tightly. "You don't understand. Your father would understand."

"My father? Don't you _dare_ bring his opinion into this. He has nothing to do with whether you would give up MOD in exchange for my life or not."

"Listen to me," Urahara said firmly, stopping his pacing. "MOD used to be my company – the company I created – and for that reason, yes, it means a lot to me. If Mayuri gained complete legal control, he could do whatever he wanted without the fear of me popping by to try and stop him, but I know I told you that I had no desire to have it back." He turned to gaze at Ishida. "And even though it is much harder to follow through on things when the decision becomes real, I don't plan on breaking my word about that. If the deal was only that, you would be receiving treatment as we speak."

"Then what is this other half of the deal that's making you think twice about my life?" Ishida asked, glaring at the man watching him.

Urahara opened his mouth then closed it with a sigh, his expression growing troubled again. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I know if I tell you, you won't want me to accept the deal."

"That's ridiculous," Ishida said, pausing to cough sharply. The ache in his chest grew stronger, making it difficult for him to breathe.

Urahara frowned over at him. "Uryuu, you have to stay calm."

"How can I be calm?! I don't know how you can hesitate in a case like this, where if you don't get the treatment, someone you care about will die, nor do I understand what could possibly make me not want you to-"

Ishida suddenly broke off into a fit of coughing, hands pressed against his mouth as he curled up onto his side. Urahara rushed forward and cursed when he caught sight of the blood dribbling between the boy's fingers onto the sheets and floor. Quickly slamming his hand on the emergency button by the bed, he reached out to steady Ishida, hands pressed against bony shoulders. The monitoring machines in the room screamed their alarm.

"Uryuu, stay calm!" Urahara called out desperately.

Isshin and a group of nurses rushed into the room a few moments later, delayed slightly from having to suit up. Urahara drifted back to let them work, eyes dark as he watched Ishida still cough blood onto the bed. Without another word, he turned and left to remove his suit, pressing his forehead against the wall once the head cover was detached.

_Not again_, Urahara thought fiercely. _Damnit, not again! This is just like before…_

Breathing deeply, he straightened and glanced back through the glass-paned doors at the nurses struggling to stabilize Ishida's condition. In the next instant, the body suit had been removed and Urahara was headed for the stairs – the elevator would take too long. He moved quickly down the flights and out onto the ground level floor, weaving through patients and doctors to step outside. Cell phone already in hand, he pressed the button to dial.

Urahara had had enough. It was far too dangerous to let this go on any further, not when a life was at stake. He had thought about the offer long enough and now was the time to follow through.

The ringing stopped with a click. "Hello?"

"Yoruichi-san, I need you to come here."

"What? Kisuke, what's wrong? Did something happen with Ishida?"

Closing his eyes, Urahara replied calmly, "I need you to write up a contract for me."

* * *

Urahara wandered out from the spare office, leaving Yoruichi to finish the details of the contract.

Upon hearing the requirements set by Mayuri, Yoruichi had tried to change his mind. Urahara had refused. He had assured her that everything would be fine as long as they had the contract completed and signed soon; preferably, that night. He had insisted upon a specific wording for one of the conditions which had elicited a scrutinizing frown from Yoruichi.

"I hope you know what you're doing," was all she had said after that.

Urahara made his way back towards Ishida's room and looked up when he arrived to see Isshin waiting by the door. Walking over, he leaned on the wall beside him, turning his head to glance through the window at the figure on the bed.

"How is he?"

"Stable," said Isshin. He paused then asked, "Are you giving up?"

Urahara had informed him of Mayuri's deal earlier in the week when the doctor had stopped by the lab.

"I'm not giving up," Urahara noted. "I'm taking the only option I have."

"Well, I'll trust you know what you're getting into. You always knew how to make things go your way, no matter what the situation."

"Are you sure about that? I'm not so sure myself," Urahara said with a smirk.

Slapping a hand on the man's shoulder, Isshin moved to leave with a wide grin. "Have I ever been wrong?" Nodding his head in the direction of the room, his grin faded. "Ishida was in a lot of pain so we gave him an analgesic. He'll be extremely drowsy and I don't expect him to stay awake much longer."

"Thank you, Isshin."

"Good luck, Kisuke."

The suit rustled with every step as Urahara entered the room. The floor had been cleaned, the sheets had been changed, and Ishida now wore an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. He looked to be asleep but wearily opened his eyes as Urahara approached.

"Kisuke, I'm sorry," Ishida said softly. He was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open. "That wasn't fair of me earlier – you were only trying to help. I'm such a horrible person…"

"No, you're not," Urahara murmured. "You were right to be upset."

"But I never even got a chance to say I was sorry for lying about seeing Mayuri, especially after I got so angry at you for hiding things from me." He closed his eyes with a sigh. "I'm such a hypocrite."

"To tell you the truth, I was more worried than angry that you went by yourself." Urahara paused to continue in a slightly amused tone. "And it seems with good reason."

Ishida let out a small laugh before opening his eyes, appearing to wake up slightly more. "Oh – I still haven't given you your birthday present. I think the nurses have been keeping it safe. … I ruined your birthday too, didn't I?"

Shaking his head, Urahara smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're still alive."

An odd silence filled the room, twisting Ishida's stomach with anxiety. Something was wrong but he couldn't think properly to try and figure out what it was. Fighting to stay awake, he almost didn't hear Urahara start speaking again.

"… you know, the first time I met you, you seemed so lost and alone even though you were surrounded by people," Urahara mused quietly. "During our time together, I've seen you change. You had your friends before but I'm not sure you ever fully accepted them until a few months into our relationship. I'd like to take credit for it but I think you did it yourself – you just finally realized how important they were. But I do believe I helped give you some confidence."

Ishida found he couldn't speak, could only listen, feeling the dread in his stomach build up with every word. Something was _terribly_ wrong.

"When I bumped into you at the restaurant, I remember being certain that you would be trouble for me – it appears that I was right. But I don't regret it." Urahara wandered away from the bedside to sit against the window ledge, the blinds rattling as they were pushed together. "On our first date – do you remember? – I asked about your family and you told me that all your known relatives were dead. I had thought that they had somehow been involved with the epidemic I failed to stop and well, I was close." He smiled faintly. "And then when we visited the aquarium I noticed that you looked nearly identical to a former employee of mine who had wanted to become vice president. Those should have been my signs to stop and leave you alone before anything serious happened but I was too involved by that point. I don't think I could have stopped even if I tried."

Urahara's face grew somber and he lifted his eyes to Ishida's which were staring back at him, wide with worry.

"I'm sorry for any unhappiness I've caused you: past and present."

"… and future? What about that, Kisuke?" Ishida asked, his voice strained as he finally found his ability to speak again. "Why are you telling me all this? Why do you sound like this is the end? What is going on?"

"The second part of Mayuri's deal," Urahara said quietly. "In exchange for your treatment, along with yielding any claim over MOD, I am expected to return to MOD and work under his direction."

Ishida felt like his heart had stopped. "No – what? No, Kisuke-"

"I told you you wouldn't like it." Urahara offered him an almost apologetic smile.

"Because you'll be a prisoner!" Ishida cried out softly, struggling to sit up and failing due to the combined effect of his earlier muscle loss and the current painkillers which were making it increasingly difficult to stay conscious. "You'll end up like the man I saw – Mayuri won't just let you work in peace, you'll become one of his experiments."

"I know that," Urahara replied. "But it doesn't matter as long as you get that treatment."

"No. _No_. Kisuke, promise me you won't agree to that deal. I won't have you dying for me – how am I supposed to live that way? You can find the cure yourself, can't you…?" Ishida trailed off wearily. "Please, promise me…"

Urahara stood from his window seat and silently walked over to the bed. Without a word, he reached up to remove the head cover of his suit, causing Ishida to frown.

"What are you doing? You'll get sick…"

"It doesn't matter any more."

Carefully pulling away Ishida's oxygen mask, Urahara leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was gentle, it was sweet, and it was utterly heartbreaking.

It was goodbye.

Urahara stepped back after replacing the mask onto Ishida's face and stared at him solemnly for a moment before turning to leave.

"Kisuke, no…" Ishida called out softly.

The doors slid shut behind him as he exited the room.

* * *

Urahara sat in the hospital admitting area, waiting for Yoruichi to finish and come down. On his lap sat the box he had picked up from the nurse's station which held his belated birthday present. He carefully opened it and pushed aside the coloured tissue paper.

Inside sat a carefully crafted bucket hat much like the one he currently wore; only this one was composed of green and white stripes.

A smile curled his lips as he set it onto his head – a perfect fit – to replace the old black one he had worn for over fifteen years.

Yoruichi arrived then, her eyes curving in amusement as she stopped in front of him.

"New hat?"

"A belated present."

"It's better than the other one," she said. Amusement fading, Yoruichi sighed as she looked him over. "Are you ready?"

Urahara stood and flashed a grin at her. "Let's go."

* * *

Ryuuken stood outside, cigarette in hand, taking a short break from his duties. He almost scowled when he noticed Isshin walking over to join him, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Hey there, Ishida-san!"

"Aren't you supposed to be doing something?" Ryuuken asked flatly.

"I could ask the same thing of you," Isshin said with a grin. "There's nothing wrong with taking a break, is there?"

"Hn." Smoke curled into the air as the other doctor exhaled.

"Smoking's bad for you, you know. It even says so on the box." Isshin reached out to snatch the package of cigarette's from the man's hand, earning him a startled noise out of the doctor.

"Kurosaki, what do you think you're-"

"See? Right here! 'Since smoking might injure your health, let's be careful not to smoke too much.' You have to be _careful_, Ishida-san!"

"You're being an idiot. Give those back-" Ryuuken abruptly stopped as he caught sight of Yoruichi and Urahara exiting the hospital.

Isshin followed his gaze and straightened, tossing the box from hand to hand. "He's going to accept Mayuri's deal." With a sly smile, he threw the cigarette box at the other man who caught it by reflex. "Look's like you won't have to sneak around the labs doing Kisuke's work any more. Does this mean I can stop being your lookout? I'm keeping your pager number though."

With an irritated glare, Ryuuken dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it with the toe of his shoe. "Get back to work," he snapped before heading inside.

Isshin grinned and sauntered in after him. Ryuuken might have been a stuck-up bastard the majority of the time, but he was a good guy when it mattered.

* * *

It was well past midnight when Urahara returned with a small cooler in his hands. The hospital was mostly empty with a small number of staff around for the overnight shift. He walked past chatting nurses and doctors to the elevators and waited patiently as it rose to the floor with Ishida's room. The chime rang loudly as the doors opened and Urahara blinked at Ryuuken who leaned against the wall opposite the elevator, waiting.

"So you made your sacrifice," said Ryuuken, eyes flickering to the cooler.

"I did. I take it Isshin informed you of the circumstances involved with my deal?" Urahara asked, stepping off and turning to move down the hallway.

The hospital director fell into step beside him with an affirmative noise. "Is it worth it?"

"Well, how about you?" Urahara sent him a smirk. "Was it worth it to do all those tests for me?" At Ryuuken's glare, he laughed. "It wasn't very hard to guess."

"See if I'll ever help you again."

"In all seriousness, Ryuuken… thank you," Urahara said quietly.

Ryuuken looked away and pushed up his glasses. "It was like you said: he's my son."

Urahara said nothing more to push him; besides, it was more than enough of an answer.

They stopped outside Ishida's room and Urahara opened the cooler to pull out two IV bags of clear fluid. He held one out to Ryuuken who frowned in confusion.

"Why are you giving this to me?"

"It's for your scientists to examine and to replicate for you, if needed," Urahara noted simply.

"Me?"

"There's a chance you might someday get caught in a situation similar to that of Uryuu's. The administration of antibiotics would set off the virus so you would need this in reserve, just in case. Luckily, I was informed by Mayuri that this secondary form of the virus isn't contagious and even though I have no reason to believe him," Urahara shrugged, "I do. So anyone who has had contact with Uryuu should be fine."

Ryuuken nodded slightly and reached out to take the bag. "Ah, I see. Thank you."

There was a short moment of silence as Urahara turned his head to peer through the glass and into Ishida's dimly lit room. "I apologize for leaving after the epidemic, so long ago. If I had known the consequences, I wouldn't have acted as such."

"… it's in the past," Ryuuken said slowly. "You were not at fault so I have no reason to blame you." He turned and started to walk away. "Good luck with everything, Urahara."

Urahara smiled and entered the room. Lamps illuminated the hospital room gently from the bedside tables, the bright halogen lights overhead having been turned off for comfort. The steady succession of beeps that mimicked every heartbeat was almost too loud in the otherwise silent room. Ishida slept, heavily drugged, and breathed evenly though a little laboured within the oxygen mask. Respiratory failure would be inevitable in a few days, if not less.

Urahara let the door slide closed behind him, forgoing the body suit. He knew he didn't need it any more. He walked forward quietly, taking care not to make too much noise even though it would be difficult to wake Ishida from his nearly comatose sleep. From one hand dangled the clear plastic bag containing what he had failed to create yet again and had to give up so much in return for… but it was well worth it.

Setting down the cooler, he reached up and hooked the bag onto the empty arm of the IV pole, carefully attaching it to the connector of the current intravenous drip. And then he watched. Pulling up a chair, Urahara placed his hat at the foot of the bed and took up a silent vigil.

Hours passed and the drug dripped slowly at the same pace as Ishida's heartbeat. Little by little, Urahara noticed that Ishida's breathing grew quieter, calmer. Releasing a deep breath, he smiled faintly at the sleeping form.

"Well, you're going to be fine, Uryuu," he said. "Mayuri appears to have upheld his part of the deal and now it's time for me to fulfill mine."

Urahara stood and stepped up to the bed, reaching out a hand to gently smooth back Ishida's hair.

"… I'm sorry I couldn't make that promise. You may hate me for it but it was the only way." He sighed a little as he stared down at the boy. "In the time we've been together, I haven't said this to you nearly enough…"

Urahara leaned forward to press a kiss against the sleeping boy's forehead, brushing a thumb against a pale cheek as he stepped back.

"I love you, Uryuu."

He picked up the cooler and removed the item sitting at the bottom: his old black hat. Placing it at the foot of the bed, he plucked up the new hat and stepped towards the door. With a final glance at Ishida's sleeping form, Urahara set the striped hat onto his head and turned to leave.

"Goodbye."

* * *

_A/N:_ I have been waiting to write and post that last scene for _so long_. I thrive on writing angst. I hope you liked it. XD

For those who are wondering, the warning on the cigarette pack is actually real in Japan - at least, according to _TIME_, June 25, 2001. I found it in my psychology textbook and was highly amused. lol

I considered posting this chapter tomorrow, but I decided to be nice. Why tomorrow? Well, March 3, 2006 was the day I posted the first chapter of the AU in my LJ. Thus... Happy 1 year anniversary, 'Unravelling Threads of Fate'! You're going to be the first multi-chapter fic I've ever completed and I couldn't be more proud. :)

Only one chapter left. Whenever it eventually gets posted, you can expect a link in my profile leading to a little surprise present that my beta and I have been working on. :D Thank you for reading and reviewing, everyone!


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N:_ Terribly sorry for the wait. But here it is - the excessive length can maybe make up for it? XD

* * *

Chapter 20 

When Ishida awoke, the first thing he noticed was how much better he felt. His chest didn't ache and his breathing wasn't strained. A momentary sense of relief washed over him until his gaze fell upon the mound of black fabric sitting at the foot of his bed. Ishida stared, his fingers slowly curling around the sheets as he realized what it meant.

Urahara was gone. Made to work for someone whose morals were twisted, perhaps even locked away somewhere in MOD by this point, forced to endure experimentation by Mayuri.

His heart clenched as he struggled to reach the hat, forcing his body to shift sideways in an attempt to get a better reach. But his muscles were still too weak from the virus' attacks and Ishida was forced to stop half curled in on himself, one arm stretched down the bed. He turned his face toward the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut in defeat while his glasses pressed onto the bridge of his nose.

_Kisuke…_

The sound of the door sliding open made Ishida lift his head. He was almost ashamed to admit that he had hoped it was Urahara but it was only Ryuuken, who stopped in the doorway and stared at his son twisted up in the sheets. The doctor's eyes landed on the black hat and Ishida's fingers twitching only a few inches away.

Feeling a rush of embarrassment at being caught looking so desperate, Ishida glared as he slowly straightened himself back up again, daring his father to say something. Ryuuken said nothing and stepped over to the chair that Urahara had been sitting in only hours ago to take a seat himself. Ishida watched him warily and gradually began to relax, his glare softening until his expression was merely somber.

"… how are you feeling?" Ryuuken asked after a moment of silence, his gaze fixed upon some random spot on the wall across from him.

"Much better."

"Ah." Another pause of silence. "You're going to be observed for a few more days then tested to make sure the virus is clear. Once that's confirmed, you'll be started on a rehabilitation program to get your strength back."

Ishida nodded and stared at the hat by his feet. His fingers wound into the bracelet on his wrist. Ryuuken's eyes drifted to the small movement and he released something akin to a sigh. He stood and walked over to the window, bending the plastic blinds to observe the people at the nurse's station.

"Uryuu," he said slowly. "I feel I owe you an explanation."

Ishida's head turned towards him quickly, eyes wide in surprise. "What?"

"After you graduated, I didn't want you getting into the medical field as that would inevitably lead to connections with MOD. I had no plans to leave my line of work so I felt that on your own, you wouldn't be near that company or have the means of getting a career related to it, thus settling down for something more mediocre." Ryuuken frowned slightly. "It appears that even with my effort it was the destiny of the Ishidas to remain tied up with MOD."

Ishida had to keep himself from gaping at his father, speechless as he listened. Although Ryuuken had called it an explanation, it was, in essence, an apology. He stared down at the faded blue sheets, at a loss of what to say. It seemed that Urahara had been right about Ryuuken only wanting to protect him, though his method of doing so perhaps wasn't the best.

The blinds snapped back into place and rattled quietly as Ryuuken withdrew his fingers, turning back around to face his son. "I suppose I should have said something back then rather than leave so abruptly but I would have preferred for you to break all ties with the Ishida family."

"_I'm sorry for leaving without a word."_

Ishida took a deep breath and carefully picked his words to avoid blatantly addressing the apology. "I'm happy with where I've gotten to," he said.

"_It's okay. Things turned out for the better."_

He paused and added as an afterthought, "Thank you."

"Hn." Ryuuken stepped towards the foot of the bed and picked up the tattered black hat, turning it slowly in his hands. "… he sacrificed a lot for you."

"I know," Ishida replied quietly.

"However," Ryuuken said, placing the item closer to his son who grasped it gingerly, "don't underestimate the man. Urahara's very good at getting out of situations that seem impossible."

With those last words, he turned and left, leaving Ishida frowning down at the hat.

_What did he mean by that? Could Kisuke actually be okay? Can I hold on to that little bit of hope of seeing him again?_ Fingers brushing over the dark fabric, he closed his eyes to drift back to sleep and released an inaudible sigh. _I could…_

* * *

Ishida stared out the window at the early morning frost covering the trees and ground in a thin film of white. After his tests had been cleared, he had been moved out of quarantine and into one of the normal hospital rooms. It was nice being able to see the sky again.

Despite the change in scenery and his slow but steady recovery, Ishida's mood remained low. It wasn't easily noticeable as he was very good at hiding his emotions, but to his friends, it was all too obvious. It was as if Urahara had and hadn't existed those past ten months. They had seen how he had changed being with the man and now they could see how it had all disappeared, only with an added underlying sense of withdrawal. They worried about how long his mood would last, brainstorming ways to cheer Ishida up once he was released from the hospital.

However, one day when Rukia, Ichigo and Orihime walked into his room, rather than finding him staring silently out the window as usual, he was drawing furiously. Glancing up to offer them a quick greeting, he returned to his sketchbook, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

Ishida had decided that to wallow in self-pity was pointless. It wouldn't help him or anyone else and most of all… it wouldn't be what _he_ wanted. He frowned deeper at the thought, hastily pushing away the emotions that threatened to rise up at the image his mind formed of an infectious smile and soft blond hair. He was stronger than this – he wasn't going to waste the opportunities given to him.

He wasn't going to waste the sacrifices made for him.

Ishida had Rukia and Orihime bring supplies to him from the Hell Moth studio, stacking fabrics, half-finished outfits and sewing kits on the chair next to his bed. He worked hard, surrounding himself with his designs, stopping only for meals or his rehabilitation sessions.

Sometimes when Ryuuken was scheduled to be on-call, he paused during his evening rounds to look into his son's dimly lit room. Watching Ishida work by lamplight, he was reminded of someone else.

But Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime began to worry about their friend though. Nearly three weeks had passed since Urahara's departure and Ishida hadn't said a word about the man, burying himself in his work instead. They decided to speak to him about it, concerned that his non-stop pace would delay his recovery or even cause him to become ill again from overexertion.

When they stepped into Ishida's hospital room, he was crouched over some pieces of fabric, sewing them together with a few stitches to form the rough shape of his design. Since he didn't have access to a sewing machine, it was all he could do until he was released from the hospital. The television played in the background, news anchors reporting about abnormal weather on the other side of the world. The trio eyed each other uncertainly before Rukia sighed and walked over to the bedside.

"Ishida-san… could we talk to you?"

"About what, Rukia-san?" he asked, continuing to create a neat row of stitches down the side of what appeared to be a shirt.

"We're worried that you're pushing yourself too hard – after all, you were extremely sick just a few weeks ago. Don't you think you should slow down a little?" Rukia asked. She frowned as Ishida bit off the thread, only to tie it off and start sewing the other side.

Ichigo scratched the back of his head, idly staring up at the television. "What's the big rush, anyway?"

"My designs are all for the summer, Kurosaki-san, Kuchiki-san. I want to have my show in April at the latest and I've lost a lot of time because of that illness."

Rukia looked thoughtful. "Couldn't you wait for next year's-"

"_No_." The firm tone of his voice startled them all, causing them to stare at him in surprise. Ishida released a quiet sigh and lifted his head to meet their eyes. "You have to understand… I can't let this opportunity pass."

The quiet that settled over them was filled with the news anchor's voice. "… that the well-known facility, Medical Operations Department, has been reported to have become engaged in a conflict of management – details are still unavailable but a legal battle may ensue. In other news…"

Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime froze, eyeing Ishida cautiously. Ishida, however, appeared unaffected by the news about MOD and calmly returned to his sewing. Orihime hesitantly stepped up to the foot of his bed, tilting her head in an attempt to peer at his face.

"Ishida-kun…"

"If you all wanted to help me," Ishida said, his voice revealing nothing about his reaction to the news, "you could start by handing me that white thread in the box on the chair."

The three opted not to prod at their friend's emotions but after some discussion, managed to get him to concede a little in terms of his workload. Rukia would take his designs and start crafting them with her staff, bringing the samples back for his input once they were complete. Once the option had been suggested, she had refused to budge, leaving Ishida little choice but to accept the offer. After his friends left for the day, Ishida sat back in his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled an earlier conversation.

The only reason why he hadn't been surprised at the news about MOD was because he had already been informed the day before about its possible media coverage.

Ishida had been carefully cutting fabric into the required pieces when a knock at the door had caused him to look up. Yoruichi had stared solemnly at him from the doorway and he had felt any words that he might have wanted to say stick in his throat. She had offered him a small smile and moved to sit on the edge of his bed.

"How are you feeling, Ishida?"

Swallowing, he had taken a deep breath before answering. "I'm doing well. And… you?"

Yoruichi had known he wasn't asking about her health but the well-being of someone else and had smiled more reassuringly. "I'm quite sure he's fine, Ishida, even with his current situation. I'm on my way to see him right now, actually."

"Then why are you…?"

"I was told to come and tell you that you might start hearing things about MOD on the news in the weeks to come." She had paused with an irritated look on her face. "To be honest, I have no idea what that means but then this is Kisuke we're talking about, so he probably has something planned."

Kisuke. He hadn't heard, said, or even dared to think that name in weeks. He had worried it would hurt too much but now - _now_ he had been given hope of a greater magnitude to hold onto.

"Yoruichi-san, how can you trust him so much?" Ishida had asked.

"I can tell you still trust him. Can _you_ tell me why?"

"Because…" Ishida had sighed in resignation. "Because he's _him_."

"And there's your answer," Yoruichi had replied with a grin. "I need to get going, but don't let whatever shows up on the news distract you from what you need to get done, okay? Take care of yourself, Ishida."

"You too, Yoruichi-san." As she had opened the door, Ishida had called out, "Do… do you think I'll see him again?"

She had shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows? If you were meant to be, you probably will. I'll try and visit again sometime, Ishida." With that, she had walked out of the room.

Ishida released a frustrated sigh at the memory of the visit and picked up his needle again. Fate had brought him and Urahara together, had deemed their histories to be so entwined. Would it bring them back together or keep them apart now?

* * *

For the next few weeks, Ishida had little time to be concerned about what Urahara was doing. Rukia had taken his goal to heart and was reporting back to him almost daily with whatever progress had been made, lugging bags of prototypes in and out of the hospital. Ishida's rehabilitation instructor had started to push him more as his strength returned, leaving him tired but satisfied with his improvement.

And amidst it all, news about MOD started to appear on the television and in the newspapers more frequently.

At one point, when Rukia had brought in a newly finished dress design, they had been discussing possible adjustments when the television announced a new piece of information.

"… has been confirmed that the former president of MOD who disappeared 15 years ago, Urahara Kisuke, is currently in discussion with the current president, Kurotsuchi Mayuri…"

Rukia had stopped speaking, biting her lip nervously. Ishida had simply released a quiet sigh before clearing his throat.

"You were saying, Kuchiki-san?"

A few weeks later, Ishida was approved for release from the hospital. Ryuuken gave him a farewell nod as Ishida made his way to the entrance to meet his friends – they were taking him out to lunch to celebrate. He was grateful to finally be allowed outside again and smiled and laughed when required, but something started to weigh on his mind as the lunch drew to a close.

Where would he go now?

He had no idea whether the hotel room was still being paid for, not to mention if it wasn't, where all his possessions would have gone. The few items he had had at the hospital were in a small duffel bag he carried now. And if he couldn't stay at the hotel anymore, what then? It would be strange to move back into the Kurosaki household and it would be intrusive to stay with Orihime or Ichigo and Rukia.

"Ishida-kun," Orihime said, nudging his shoulder with a finger, "do you want to head to the studio to see what's been done so far or do you have plans?"

Ishida tangled his fingers in the bracelet on his wrist, pressing his lips together lightly. "I actually… I need to go to the hotel."

"Ahh." Quickly deducing the problem, Orihime smiled brightly at him. "If you do need somewhere to stay, you're welcome to come over again!" she said with a salute.

"Or you could come stay with us," Rukia chimed in. "Especially if you feel like eating something… normal."

"As if he'll find that at our place," snorted Ichigo, automatically dodging the fork hurled at his head.

"Quiet, you!" Rukia snapped. "It's not my fault the recipes are so hard to follow – they should clarify that when they say 'cups' that they want them all to be the same size…"

Ishida could only shake his head and smile a little as the pair started to quarrel. It was kind of them all to offer, but he knew that no matter what he found at the hotel, he would have to find a place of his own.

Waving goodbye to his friends as they headed back to the Hell Moth studio, Ishida turned around, shifted the bag strap on his shoulder, and gazed over at his destination a few blocks away. The walk felt like it would take forever. It was almost like he was cursed, getting caught at every red light on the way. While he waited for the lights to change, the only things that continuously caught his attention were the newspaper stands and boxes, all displaying headlines to articles about MOD.

They weren't front-page material, but the titles gave teasing glimpses of what Urahara could possibly be up to, the actual information hidden away beneath pages of murders and accidents and newly discovered medical mysteries. Ishida couldn't help but find it a little ironic. Though he was tempted to buy one simply to see what was going on, Ishida decided it was better not to get caught up in it. He had the utmost faith in Urahara but things could still go awry – he'd rather live as oblivious as possible until he was absolutely certain.

But certain of what? Certain that Urahara would remain alive? Certain that he would come back?

There was no certainty in that.

Releasing a frustrated sigh, Ishida watched the lights switch colours and started walking. _Enough of all this. For now, all you can do is focus on what needs to get done and hope for the best._ He pushed up his glasses as he stopped in front of the hotel's main doors. _Everything else you can worry about later._

Ishida stepped into the hotel lobby, feeling a rush of warm air surround him as he left the chilly spring afternoon. The faintest aroma of cinnamon and dark chocolate filled the lobby – something that had become so familiar when he had lived with Urahara. Distant conversations could be heard coming from the lounge and bar, so quiet they almost blended in with the calm quiet of the hotel's entrance.

At the front desk, Ishida rang the service bell, flinching slightly as the sound interrupted the peaceful atmosphere. A manager came into view, his face brightening into a smile of recognition.

"Ah, Ishida-san! We haven't seen you here for quite some time. How have you been?"

Ishida smiled a little in return. "Good, thank you," he said, offering a standard reply. It wasn't as if the man really wanted to know that he had been in the hospital for the past two months, recovering after nearly dying from the same nameless virus that had killed all of his relatives 15 years ago. Not to mention, losing the one person he had grown to love to an insane scientist who appeared to have a strong desire to wipe out entire city populations.

Probably not.

"Wonderful to hear," the manager said, with a small nod. "How can I help you today?"

"Well, I was wondering what the situation was with the penthouse suite under Urahara-san's name. It's to the best of my knowledge that he hasn't returned for quite some time either and I'm a little worried about the status of our possessions."

"Ah yes, Urahara-san hasn't been here in at least a month – he's gone on a business trip, I believe?" Ishida couldn't bring himself to nod in reply, but the manager didn't appear to notice. "Everything has been left as it was since the room is still being paid for, but I do recall some movers carrying a number of boxes out before Urahara-san left."

"I see," he said softly. "Do you mind if I go take a quick look?"

"Of course not! You are still our guest, Ishida-san. Ah, that reminds me," the manager began to flip through a small stack of envelopes before handing one over, "there was a message left for you just a few days ago."

Puzzled, Ishida took the envelope. "Thank you."

"No trouble at all, Ishida-san. I'll have someone accompany you to open the door, as we've changed the key cards since the last time you were here. Have a good day and don't hesitate to ask if you need anything else."

Ishida thanked him and turned to see a bellboy waiting by the elevators. Grasping the envelope with both hands, he walked over to them and stepped aboard. He watched the numbers light up one by one, reminded of the first time he had come to this hotel. The elevator chime rang and he followed the bellboy to the room on the left, unconsciously reaching for his pocket. Ishida stopped and slowly lowered his arm, remembering that he didn't have his key card and that even if he did, it wouldn't have worked.

The door was swung open and the bellboy turned to face him. "Go right ahead, sir. I'll be waiting just outside the door."

Nodding at him, Ishida stared into the unlit suite. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room and flicked on the lights.

At first glance, it appeared as if there was nothing different from the last time he had been there. However, Ishida began to notice certain things missing and finally made his way into the bedroom where his suspicions were confirmed.

Though Urahara's possessions remained, his had all disappeared, presumably in the boxes that had been moved a month ago. Even the paper cranes had been taken down.

Ishida sent a cursory glance at the wardrobe hanging in the closet and at the box of first-edition books at the foot of the bed before heading back out into the living room. He stood there for a moment, silently taking in the sight of the suite, before remembering the envelope in his hand. Sliding a finger under the flap, he slit it open and removed the note inside.

_Ishida,_

_Your studio's complete. Go check it out when you can - glad to have you back._

_Take care,_

_Yoruichi_

Ishida slid the paper back into the envelope and released a quiet sigh. Well, he couldn't stay here, that was for sure. He might as well go see what the studio looked like before finding a place to sleep for the night.

Following the bellboy back down to the lobby, Ishida bid farewell to the manager and stepped back out into the afternoon sun. Starting to walk down the sidewalk, he left the hotel behind him.

* * *

Summer was approaching and the days were growing longer and warmer. The sun had just begun to set when Ishida reached the street crossing where his studio sat, dark and unoccupied. He didn't know what to expect of the building – Urahara had refused to allow him to even step near the place after the interview incident so many months ago.

Steadily making his way towards the building amidst the people rushing past him on their way home from work, he tightened his fist, feeling the key imprint itself onto his palm.

The studio key had been one of the few items he had kept with him at the hospital and now he would get to use it for the first time.

Finally stopping in front of the studio door, Ishida took a deep breath and looked up – Urahara had never had a chance to tell him what the name of the studio would be. In an elegant blue font was the single word "Quincy". He stared at it silently, touched that Urahara had chosen the name of his family's former company. Perhaps all of those lost to the virus would be able to live on this way.

Uncurling his fingers, he took the key and put it into the lock, feeling the satisfying click when he turned it. The door swung open smoothly and his steps were muffled by carpet as he walked inside. Ishida let the door close behind him, effectively cutting off the din of traffic, and searched for a light switch. Finding a panel on the wall to his left, he flicked all the switches and flooded the room with a clean, white light.

If there had been anyone waiting for a response from him, Ishida wouldn't have been able to give one. The interior was decorated in white and shades of blue, creating the impression of things being very clean and modern. The room he stood in had been set up as a small store front with a comfortable looking couch in the corner, while the doorway behind the counter lead into the actual studio area. Work tables, sewing machines, mannequins, and anything else he could ever need were already arranged in the large room; Ishida took a few minutes wandering around the tables, absently touching the new rolls of fabric and unopened packages sitting upon them.

On his second path around the room, Ishida noticed a door in the corner that he had neglected to see the first time. An attempt to turn the handle revealed that it was locked and he paused a moment to frown down at it. Glancing at the key still in his hand, he shrugged.

"Oh, why not…" Ishida murmured before attempting to insert it into the door.

The key slid in neatly and unlocked the door without a fuss. Opening it, Ishida blinked at the staircase, his eyes following the steps up into darkness. Touching the switch on the wall illuminated the upper level and he peered up at it curiously. He had no idea what could possibly be up there – from what he could tell, everything he would need to run his studio was already on the ground floor. With one glance at the room behind him, Ishida set the duffel bag down on the floor before turning back around and slowly making his way up the stairs, fingers gliding along the wall as he went.

Standing at the top of the stairs, Ishida felt his breath catch in his throat, completely in awe at the sight that greeted him. The upper floor had been renovated into an apartment setting: a large living room area beside a decent-sized kitchen and beyond that, a door which presumably led to the bedroom. Ishida removed his shoes, placing them on the small rack already sitting against the wall beside him, and stepped onto the plush carpeting. He glanced here and there, noting items he recognized as his own which had been placed thoughtfully around the rooms.

Walking around the small dining table, Ishida pushed open the bedroom door and stopped a moment in the doorway, staring inside at the strings of paper cranes hanging from the ceiling. He touched one lightly, sending it swaying back and forth as he entered the room. Inside the closet he found all his clothing neatly arranged along with the rest of his possessions packed carefully in boxes while the bathroom held his favourite brands of hygiene products; Ishida only took a fleeting glance at his reflection in the mirror, worried about what he might see on his face.

Slowly making his way back into the living room, Ishida perched on the couch arm, staring blankly out the window overlooking the busy street. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know whether everything had been planned in advance or if certain things, such as the paper cranes, had been a last minute decision as yet another farewell gesture. All he knew was that Urahara had made sure he would be taken care of and for that he was incredibly grateful.

_Dwelling on what it all means is pointless_, Ishida reminded himself, standing and reaching for his shoes. _You have a show to arrange and now you have your own place to work rather than cluttering up Kuchiki-san's studio._

Stepping down the stairs, Ishida picked up his duffel bag at the bottom and went to lock the front door. He might as well start making himself comfortable in his new apartment.

* * *

"What do you think of this one?" Rukia asked, holding up one of the resumes that had been lying among many on top of Ishida's old desk. He peered at it, skimming the cover letter and qualifications before nodding a little.

"She sounds competent - put her in the 'maybe' pile." Ishida shuffled through the papers and sat back with a tired sigh. "Do we really have to do this right now, Kuchiki-san?"

She frowned at him, sliding the resume underneath the paperclip holding the other ones set aside for further consideration. "You only have a few more weeks to get your show ready, Ishida-san. Your studio needs a staff before then and you need time to judge how well they work with you."

Rukia had set up flyers around her former school informing the students of Quincy studio's upcoming debut and the response had been staggering - Ishida suspected that the past interview had had something to do with it. In hindsight, perhaps all the suffering that day had been worth it.

"That reminds me," Rukia said brightly, "where do you want to have your show? It might even be too late now for a booking in April, but it's worth a shot depending on the location you choose."

"Well, I-"

The radio suddenly blared in the other room, the announcer's voice stating, "The trial deciding ownership of the medical research company, MOD, is in session today. Curiously enough, Shihouin Yoruichi, a staff member at MOD, has left her position to take on the role as the lawyer for the plaintiff. More details as…"

The volume faded away and an apology was shouted out to them. Rukia glanced warily at Ishida as he adjusted his glasses and gathered the papers together into a neat pile. Clearing his throat quietly, he met her gaze. "As I was going to say, I was hoping to have my show at the same place you had yours. Do you think that's possible?"

"I'll see what I can do," she murmured.

The remaining weeks that lead up to the day of the show passed quickly. A capable staff had been selected and worked under the supervision of a select few of Hell Moth's employees, Orihime being one of them. Ishida's designs were being put through their final touches and at the end of each day, he found he was thankful having his bed just a flight of stairs away. By some stroke of luck, the building that had hosted Hell Moth's show the past summer was available and a date was set for the end of April. Ishida paid little attention to the news, simply being too busy during the day and too exhausted in the evenings to do more than glance at the television or newspapers.

However, the day before the show, Ishida allowed himself time to relax. He forced himself to stop double-checking everything and remained upstairs, doing some general housekeeping before finally settling down with a book. Too restless to read for more than an hour, he turned on the television and idly flipped through the channels. Three letters flashed across his vision and Ishida quickly changed back to catch the news report.

"… has decided in favour of the plaintiff, Urahara Kisuke," the news anchor stated calmly, an image of Urahara shown in the top right corner of the screen. "In an unexpected turn of events, accusations of criminal intent and several counts of murder were laid against Kurotsuchi Mayuri by the plaintiff immediately following the jury's decision. A trial examining these charges has been scheduled for the following Monday."

Ishida stared at the screen, fingers wrapped tightly around the cross charm that hung from his bracelet. He inhaled with a gasp, realizing that he had been holding his breath.

_MOD… it's Kisuke's again. _

Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the couch and let out a sigh. The only question now with his show less than 24 hours away was…

"Will he come?" Ishida asked himself quietly.

* * *

The evening was cool when Ishida stepped out of the building for a breath of fresh air. Rukia continued to insist in helping and was ordering the models around backstage while Orihime was busy directing the new staff to make a few last minute stitches. He sighed, watching the line of people shrink as they were slowly admitted into the building. A lot had happened to get to this point; some things he regretted, others he would never regret. Whether Urahara came that night or not, he had a new life ahead of him that could only flourish.

"Don't they need you inside?"

Ishida turned to face the voice, blinking in surprise. "… Ryuuken? What are you doing here?"

Ryuuken glanced over at the line of people, his expression revealing nothing as he cleared his throat. "I felt I should see for myself what it is that my son does," he said calmly. "Congratulations, Uryuu."

"Thank you," Ishida replied quietly, a faint smile touching his lips. "And you're right - I should head back in. I hope you enjoy the show."

He hurried back inside, nearly running straight into Rukia who had come looking for him.

"Ishida-san! Are you ready?" she asked with a grin.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded and straightened his suit jacket. "Let's get started."

The show went off without a hitch. Watching the models take their final walk down the runway, Ishida twisted his fingers in his bracelet. He'd realized that it had become a habit of his to do so when he was nervous. When the last model stepped past him, he walked out to a deafening applause and bowed politely when he stopped at the end of the runway.

"Thank you all for coming," he said, glancing at the crowd. "It took a lot of effort to get here and I couldn't have done it without the help of several dedicated friends. I'd like to extend my deepest gratitude to them and to all of you for giving a nameless designer a chance. Thank you again and enjoy your evening."

Ishida let his gaze skim the applauding crowd again as he stepped back, freezing when he recognized Yoruichi smiling at him from the back. If she was here, that had to mean that…

There.

A flash of green and white caught the corner of his eye and he forced himself to stay calm, forced himself not to bolt off the runway that instant and instead slowly made his way backstage.

Picking up a small ice bucket he had hid in the caterer's fridge, Ishida slipped past the groups of people and out a side door. Whatever anyone wanted to talk to him about could wait until after. He had almost started to feel stupid for going out and buying the bucket's contents but now he knew that his gesture wouldn't be wasted. He glanced around slowly at the exact place he had first met Urahara, on an evening just like this one year ago, and moved to sit down on the concrete steps.

Ishida waited patiently and inhaled sharply when he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned, slowly lifting his eyes to the face of the man who still held his heart. Urahara let the door close behind him and smiled, taking a few steps closer but remaining a respectful distance away. He looked tired, which was understandable after the extensive court case that had just been settled, but otherwise in good health.

"Hello, Ishida-san."

Three months. Almost three entire months since he'd last seen him. How he'd missed hearing that voice.

"Hello, Urahara-san."

"So you knew I'd come," he mused, reaching up to idly scratch at his neck. "Does that mean I've become predictable?"

Ishida couldn't stop the smile that twitched his lips. "Anything but."

Sliding his hands into his pockets, Urahara grinned, leaned back against the brick wall and gazed out at the dark line of trees beyond the parking lot. "You've been well?"

"Yes." Ishida paused then nodded before repeating, "Yes."

_All because of you…_

"Well, that's good to hear," Urahara said cheerfully. "I'd hate to think that all of it had been for nothing."

Pushing the ice bucket to the side, Ishida gazed down at the bracelet; he stroked a finger over the charm while he pressed his lips together in thought. "Urahara-san, if you knew you were coming back… why did you make it seem like I'd never see you again?"

"Because I didn't know."

"What?" Ishida glanced up at him sharply.

"I'm sure you've had several people tell you that I always have something up my sleeve," said Urahara, still avoiding Ishida's gaze with his eyes shadowed by the striped hat on his head. "Though that may be true, in this case there was the possibility of it not succeeding. However, considering the circumstances, I was willing to take that risk," he said, smiling softly, "and luckily it all worked out."

"Did it?"

Ishida could hear him release a quiet sigh before he pushed away from the wall to take a seat on the steps beside him. Though the night wasn't that cold, he could still feel the heat radiating off the older man.

"I didn't tell you that I had a plan in mind because if things hadn't gone the way they were supposed to, you would have been left expecting me to return only to be horribly disappointed. I felt it was better to have our farewells in case that really had been our last chance to speak." Urahara sent him a sidelong glance with a grin. "Besides, if you had sat around waiting for me, you wouldn't have been able to do the show in time."

Ishida couldn't smile back - there were still too many questions. Noticing Ishida's lack of response, Urahara stared back out at the darkness.

"I know I must have hurt you and I'm sorry for that… but sacrifices had to be made in order to save you and to be quite honest, that's all I was hoping for."

Closing his eyes, Ishida pinched the bridge of his nose. He could argue with him - he could _easily_ argue - but he didn't feel it was worth it. Not for their reunion.

"Can I just know how you got out of that contract you made with Mayuri?" he asked quietly, curiosity audible beneath the words.

A smile curved Urahara's lips again as he tilted his head in consideration. "I suppose, in a way, you helped."

"How?"

"I had requested Yoruichi to write a very specific condition in the contract. All of the requirements stated by Mayuri would be fulfilled only if you were to fully recover, where recovery was defined as you no longer coughing up blood along with regaining your liver, respiratory and heart function. However, the wording of my condition gave me a very small loophole to take advantage of."

Ishida frowned in confusion and Urahara's smile grew wider in response.

"Can't see the problem, Ishida-san? Well, luckily, neither did Mayuri. Do you remember how far the illness had progressed in you? You reached the stage of liver failure and were on the verge of respiratory failure," Urahara recalled softly. "Now let me ask you this: how can you regain something you never lost?"

Ishida fell silent as he thought about it and slowly his eyes widened in realization. He had to clench his fists in order to keep from hitting the man. "You have got to be the most reckless person I've ever known."

Urahara released a short laugh. "Yes, I know it was a huge risk, but I was willing to take it. The one thing I was desperately hoping for was that you wouldn't lapse into heart failure before I could get the treatment to you."

"But why didn't you leave right away if you knew the contract was void?"

"I had to gain some evidence." Urahara leaned forward, propping his chin up with one hand. "I'm sure you heard about the charges I laid against Mayuri. I took the few weeks I was there to first round up support for the proposed change in management, then I gathered as much information as I could about the experiments he was conducting in the basements.

"When I started to feel that Mayuri was keeping me around less for my intellectual contribution than just waiting for the moment he could ambush me with an anaesthetic, I decided it was time to reveal that I was under no obligation to stay. It was rather entertaining watching him rage away."

Ishida stared up at the sky, at the few wisps of cloud drifting past the curve of the moon. "The court case now," he said. "Do you really think you can win?"

At Urahara's glance, he waved a hand through the air, groping for words.

"I mean, logically, with all the evidence that could be brought against him, the answer would be yes. But we both know Mayuri has connections and he'll be doing everything he can to avoid being convicted."

"You're right," Urahara answered, "but it'll be hard for him to try with all the testimonies I've acquired. I tried asking a certain young lady to testify but she refused. I think you met her when you visited MOD."

"You mean…"

"Kurotsuchi Nemu. She's a good girl at heart - I think she just doesn't know any better, having been around Mayuri for most of her life."

"No," Ishida said softly, remembering the expression he'd seen on Nemu's face. "She knows but regardless of everything he does to her and to other people, she still loves him as her father."

Urahara fell silent before nodding slightly to himself. "Speaking of fathers, did you see yours tonight?" he asked with a grin.

A frown creased Ishida's forehead. "Actually, yes, I… wait, _you_ asked him to come, didn't you?"

"Asked, nagged, threatened, it's all the same," Urahara replied cheerily.

Shaking his head, a smirk curved Ishida's mouth for a moment. "Well, thank you."

"Not a problem. Your father's testifying as well - he was one of the first to agree, actually."

"One of the first? So he knew this entire time that you had a plan?"

"I asked him not to say anything - and be honest, Ishida-san, how often do you really speak with your father?" Urahara grinned. "I let Yoruichi go visit you because by that point I knew the contract was void, but I was still a little concerned of how much she might tell you, since I didn't want you to become distracted."

"Will I have to testify?" Ishida asked abruptly.

Urahara hesitated, turning to face him. "It won't be necessary since your father is confirming all of your symptoms and I'd really prefer it if you didn't, but if you insist, there's no harm in it."

"I want to."

"Then I can't stop you, can I?" Urahara said before shrugging slightly. "It's your choice."

Ishida frowned, his back straightening as he tensed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." The man paused before shrugging again. "Well, it's just that if you consider certain past events, I'm not sure I'd trust your decision-making skills…"

"Oh, that's not fair," Ishida said bitterly. "I'm not the only one who's made a stupid decision in the past, Kisuke. If you're going to say that about me now, I could say the same thing about you choosing to even do this trial."

"I was trying to protect you – then and now."

"And I was too! Do you still think I went to Mayuri by myself just to spite you? I didn't want you to have to deal with him after everything you've done for me and thought I could get him to leave us alone once and for all. Obviously, I made a mistake, but don't sit there and act like I'm the only one who's done something wrong." Ishida grit his teeth as he glared at the man.

Urahara held up his hands in defeat and nodded, sighing slightly. "Okay, okay, I know. You've made your choice. It's understandable that I couldn't expect you to wait..."

Ishida felt his anger dissipate as he blinked in confusion. "Wait?"

"When I stopped by the hotel, they informed me that you had paid a visit a while back. I thought you might be waiting for me but it seems I was mistaken."

_Waiting for him? That means he was hoping I'd still be staying there when he got back._ Ishida suddenly smiled. Whatever doubts he had about Urahara's feelings towards him after their unexpected separation floated away and his smile turned devious. He wasn't holding back now.

"Well, for one thing, none of my things were at the hotel so of course I couldn't wait for you," he said lightly. "And besides, I was waiting for you to come find me, which worked out quite well, don't you think?"

Urahara spluttered and turned to stare at him in astonishment. "What?"

Ignoring the question, Ishida calmly turned to the ice bucket, asking, "Would you like some wine?" before pulling out a bottle and two glasses. A stunned silence was his only response, so he uncorked the bottle and poured the wine, offering a glass to Urahara.

At a loss, Urahara shook his head as they clinked the glasses together and took a sip. He frowned for a moment at the flavour before jerking his head around to stare at Ishida again. "This is..."

"Chateau Closerie du Grand Poujoux 1976 Medoc," Ishida recited smoothly then took a sip himself. "I recall someone once telling me that they considered sex to be better than this wine. I think, from what experience I have," he took another sip, "I'd have to disagree."

Choking, Urahara set down his glass and attempted to clear his airway. Recovering, he eyed Ishida and slowly realized what was going on. With a quiet laugh, he said, "Come now, Uryuu, don't you think that's a little below the belt?"

"Oh, I don't know, Kisuke. It's been so long that I think I've forgotten," Ishida replied with a growing smile. "Care to prove me wrong?"

Reaching out to touch a slightly flushed cheek, Urahara laughed again and shook his head. "You had me worried there for a moment. You know I missed you though, right?"

Ishida looked up to meet his eyes, fingers curling around the wine glass. Urahara gazed back, eyes soft and honest beneath the rim of the hat. Setting the glass down, Ishida licked his lips and leaned forward to kiss him hard, hands reaching up to pull off the hat and thread fingers through his hair. He savoured the feeling of Urahara's lips on his, of arms reaching around to draw him closer, of the way the emptiness faded away.

Pulling away, Ishida smiled and pressed their foreheads together. "I know. And… thank you for the studio and the apartment, Kisuke."

Urahara grinned and reached over to grab his wine glass. "You're welcome. I thought it'd be useful to live close to your work and besides," he said, taking a sip of the ruby red liquid, "there needed to be some place to move all of our belongings."

"Our?" Ishida echoed.

"Unless you'd prefer me to stay at the hotel…?"

"No," he breathed, "come to the apartment." Ishida sat back and picked up his glass as well. "You put the cranes in the bedroom – I never did get to tell you what I wished for."

"You don't have to, I think I know. And it was rather successful!" Urahara said cheerfully. "But if there is something I want to know, it's how you found this wine."

Finishing the last of his wine, Ishida stood up from his seat and brushed off his pants. "Oh, that was easy. I asked Yoruichi-san a while back and just made a note of it. There turned out to be a specialty wine store just down the street, so I picked it up there."

"You're too clever for your own good, Uryuu," Urahara replied, rising to his feet and handing his empty glass back to Ishida, who put everything back into the ice bucket.

"Perhaps," he said with a smile. Taking a deep breath he paused with his hand on the door handle. "Kisuke, there's one thing I've always been curious about. How many were there before me?" As Urahara opened his mouth to answer, Ishida frowned slightly and held up a hand to stop him. "And don't tell me that you don't know what I'm talking about."

Reaching down to pick up his hat, Urahara pressed his lips together in thought. "Several. A few. But not like this." He shook his head once and looked away. "Never, ever anything like this, Uryuu," he said quietly, and then looked up to meet Ishida's eyes. "I promise."

Ishida was silent for a moment before nodding with a soft smile. He believed him – how could he not after everything they'd been though?

Opening the door, the pair walked back into the large room filled with music and people, Urahara's hand resting on Ishida's hip. Things weren't perfect – nothing ever was – but it was close. There were no guarantees for the future, nothing that could predict what life would hand them but whatever time they had together, they would cherish.

They had each other again and it was enough.

The End.

* * *

A/N: And so we reach the end. Started on March 3rd, 2006 on my LJ, posted to ff dot net at the end of July, 'Unravelling Threads of Fate' comes to a close.

Thank you to my beta, Kirstian, above all for putting up with me and our late-night beta sessions because I appear to be incapable of finishing chapters during normal hours of the day. And for always being around to bounce ideas off of. :D

And of course, thank you to all of you, my readers, for giving an odd pairing a chance. XD Hopefully you enjoyed it - I definitely did.

As for the surprise: for fun, my beta and I put together an FST for the fic. If you want to take a look, a link is posted in my profile.

Thank you again! Please let me know what you thought of it! Cheers :)


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